Everything
by CaughtInTheRa1n
Summary: "Y-you said you would come back." "I know. And I did." "N-no, you didn't." Arthur needs to face his biggest mistake.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Everything

**Warnings: **Some foul language, mentions of torture, descriptions of injuries.

**Note: **This is my very first fanfiction, so critiques are welcome. I'm always trying to improve!

~Ra1n

* * *

"W-where were y-you?" Merlin breathed, his eyes fluttering closed. His ribs expanded quickly as he took in shallow pulls of air. Arthur's fingers trembled as he carefully undid the knots around Merlin's frail wrists.

"I-I waited," he whispered, his eyes still closed, "I waited and w-waited and y-you said-" he took another shallow breath as his freed hands fell into his lap, "you said y-you would come b-back."

"I know, I know," Arthur choked out, kneeling to untie Merlin's ankles from the chair's legs, "And I did."

"No," Merlin's eyes opened a fraction of an inch, "You d-didn't."

He closed his eyes and his brow furrowed as he attempted to keep his breathing under some kind of control. Arthur's stomach lurched as he finished unwinding the rope around Merlin's ankles. His feet fell together with a soft _slap_ and Arthur took in the raw, thin skin where he'd struggled against his bonds. He'd fought back, but he'd never had a chance.

Arthur glanced at Merlin's neck nervously. The collar was still there, heavy and glowing faintly against his pale, broken flesh. It had been made for Merlin specifically, and Arthur had been so _proud_ of it.

The iron had been measured precisely, the runes etched by the neatest scribe in the kingdom. Each of the jewels and precious metals were cut and fitted to ensure the optimum amount of contact between them and the vulnerable skin of Merlin's neck. Iron to numb the magic, nickel to weaken the muscles. Rubies to slow the blood, amethyst to slow the mind, emeralds to slow the lungs.

It was a truly beautiful piece of equipment that Arthur now found utterly revolting. He itched to rip the thing from Merlin's neck, but forced himself to remain calm. He feared the only thing keeping Merlin from unleashing a pain-fueled wrath on him was that collar, so Arthur would keep it on him until he was sure everybody was safe.

Instead, he focused on everything else. The bruising all over his body. The gashes weeping bloody puss down his rib cage and abdomen. His fingers and toes broken at odd angles. They were classic marks of interrogation; Arthur wasn't surprised by them. He'd ordered the guards to get any information they could out of the sorcerer, and he didn't expect any less.

The sensitive skin of Merlin's inner arms and thighs resembled minced meat, however, and Arthur stared at the wounds for a moment, stumped as to what could have caused them. A vague memory floated through his mind.

"_The sorcerer isn't giving us anything, sire."_

"_Well, then you're obviously not doing your job well enough."_

"_We have tried all of the standard techniques, he simply isn't talking. Is it possible that he truly doesn't-"_

"_Don't you dare. He knows something and I will not hear my own guards sympathizing with a lying sorcerer."_

"_I'm not sympathizing, sire- I am merely suggesting the possibility that-"_

"_He _knows _something! I know he does! He was here for a reason, and you damn well better figure out what that reason is."_

"_But we have already gone through the procedure for interrogation, and he has said nothing. What do you suggest we do now?"_

"_I don't care! Be creative! You have an entire kingdom of instruments at your disposal! You can figure something out!"_

"_Y-yes, sire…"_

As the memory ended, Arthur turned his head and promptly threw up across the stones. He heaved again when he saw the myriad of stains already there, and had to force his eyes closed as he recognized the shape of the Pendragon crest burned into the sole of one of Merlin's feet.

He'd told them to get creative…

And they'd obeyed him.

Of _course_ they'd obeyed him -they'd had no other choice. The king of Camelot had ordered them to torture an innocent man, so they had tortured an innocent man. God, the head guard had even _said_ they believed he was innocent, and Arthur had refused to listen. And now… now Arthur was taking mental inventory of his best friend's wounds.

Merlin shivered suddenly, his unbroken toes curling and releasing again. Arthur instinctively put a comforting hand on his arm and was met with a full-bodied flinch. Merlin's eyes opened in panic and he jerked his arm towards his chest, breathing more heavily than before. Arthur's hand stayed frozen in place for a moment, and Merlin stared at it as if it was going to reach out and strangle him.

It was then that Arthur noticed the overlapping bruises across Merlin's throat... somebody already had.

He lowered his hand.

Merlin's breathing slowed slightly, but he was still staring at Arthur's hand with wide, fevered eyes. His arm was trembling.

"I'm-" Arthur began to apologize, but was cut off.

"Don't apologize," Merlin snapped, lowering his arm to his lap. "And don't you _dare_ touch me again."

In the dim light of the cell, Merlin's blood-occluded eyes glittered with malice. Arthur shivered. _What had he done?_

He finished untying Merlin's bonds in silence. Merlin rested his head against the back of the chair and focused on breathing once again. As the final rope was removed from his chest, Arthur took a step back to allow Merlin room to get up.

Merlin's eyes fluttered open and surveyed Arthur, then the floor in front of him, and finally the rope burns across his own bare body.

"Um," Arthur didn't know what to say, "you...you're fr- you can leave now. Um, I'm not going to… to hurt you."

Even in his head, Arthur thought the words sounded pathetic.

Merlin must have thought so, too, because he smirked. One of the corners of his mouth twitched up, and he let out a low, hysterical chuckle.

Arthur jumped at the sound. It wasn't Merlin's usual carefree laughter -this was deeper, more crazed than joyful. He opened his mouth to speak when the laughter abruptly stopped.

"It's a l-little late for that n-now, isn't it A-Arthur?" he hissed darkly, and began to giggle again. "W-what do you h-have left to t-take?"

Arthur tensed as the noise echoed against the stone walls of Merlin's prison.

"You can go now," he said again, but Merlin kept laughing. Arthur rose his voice. "You can leave now!"

As quickly as the giggles had started, they stopped as Merlin suddenly _roared._

"_I can't, you useless prat! Don't you understand? I _bloody _can't!_"

On the last two words, Merlin jerked up to stand in front of the chair for a moment, the tendons in his mutilated neck standing out, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, and Arthur had a moment to witness the pure _power_Merlin could possess before Merlin promptly crumpled to the ground.

His knees jarred painfully against the stones and he caught himself with his elbows, his spine curved downward in utter defeat. Arthur watched as each of his prominent, bruised ribs pulsed under his skin. When Merlin spoke, he spoke to the floor.

"I can't," he whispered. Arthur saw a few weak tears drip from his cheeks. "Can't you see? I have nothing left." His arms gave way beneath him, and he collapsed fully, curling to cradle his fragile abdomen. "D-do what you w-want. I d-don't care anym-more." He squeezed his eyes shut, and a few more bloody tears slipped down his face."J-just please...make it end."

Arthur didn't move. He was frozen to the spot, shock paralyzing his muscles and keeping his feet stuck to the floor. A few thoughts flashed through his mind at once.

_Merlin was too weak to stand._

_Merlin was too weak to defend himself._

Arthur banished the second thought immediately, hating himself for thinking it. But the first thought stayed. For some reason, the thought that Merlin - brave, stubborn, stupid, _powerful_ Merlin - didn't have the strength to walk out of his own prison made Arthur's stomach clench.

As Arthur watched the sorcerer sob into the floor, things suddenly _snapped_ into perspective.

Arthur had taken _everything._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! I'm back. Remember how I said I might want to continue this story? Well, I published the first chapter last week and immediately realized I needed to finish it. I'm not sure how long this story is going to be, but I already have part of the next chapter written up, so keep your eyes peeled! I will probably be updating every Wednesday, but as I am still learning the ropes, that might change.**

**A HUGE Thank-you to everybody who commented, favorited, and followed! I was never expecting anybody to read this, and you blew me away!**

**Please enjoy this next installment!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

Arthur banished the second thought immediately, hating himself for thinking it. But the first thought stayed. For some reason, the thought that Merlin - brave, stubborn, stupid, _powerful_ Merlin - didn't have the strength to walk out of his own prison made Arthur's stomach clench.

As Arthur watched the sorcerer sob into the floor, things suddenly _snapped_ into perspective.

Arthur had taken _everything._

* * *

His lungs froze at the realization. He, Arthur Pendragon, had taken Merlin's strength, trust, magic, and life and ripped it away. He had taken gentle Merlin and crippled him into a trembling creature in a stone-dark cell, and because of what? Paranoia? A need to prove to his dead father that he could be king? He didn't know. He only knew he had been so _angry_, had felt so betrayed and _righteous_ in the shadow of that betrayal.

He hadn't thought, just acted, and now-

Merlin's crying changed patterns. Arthur looked at him, hoping to see him standing but fearing what he would do if he was. Instead, he watched as Merlin twisted himself into hysterics. His sobs were being punctuated by odd, hitching giggles every minute or so. It was unsettling, the way his shoulders shook themselves from tears to laughter to tears again, and Arthur thought back to the collar around Merlin's neck, of the discovery and the fury that had lead them both to where they were now.

_"What is this collar for, your highness? ...If I may ask." The jewel smith said, carefully setting a shard of ruby into the iron. "If I know its intended use, I can set stones accordingly- rubies are only the generic option."_

_"And what do the rubies do?" Arthur asked, morbid intrigue moving his lips for him._

_"Slow the blood flow, sire. I assume -as it is an iron collar -that you are intending to subdue a magical creature of some kind? These rubies should aid in that."_

_Arthur nodded silently in order to avoid correcting the smith's use of the word "creature." If that was what he wanted to call the sorcerer, then so be it. That was an accurate term anyway, for what was a creature but a lower being, one that could not be entirely defined as human?_

_The jewel smith nodded back. "Well, I do need to know the nature of the beast's magic if I am going to design a collar that will properly subdue it."_

Beast, _Arthur thought. Beast. _He liked that word even better.

_"The beast," he said, probing the word with his tongue, "is clever and cunning. It can summon magic with a simple thought, and is extremely adept at slipping away unseen." _

_He stopped, thought of Merlin on that terrible night, when in the darkness of the woods he slipped away from the camp and summoned the dragon from the sky as Arthur watched unnoticed under the shelter of the trees. He had told himself that dragon calling wasn't strictly forbidden, and that surely Merlin wasn't hiding any other secrets. Still, he found himself vowing to keep watch on the servant._

"_It can hide its motives easily, and change nature very quickly."_

_He thought of the days of watching Merlin from the shadows. Of watching him secretly flash his golden eyes and summon fire, heat water, call light to his hands, even freeze the very fabric of time, all under Arthur's nose, and wondered how he was so stupid to allow another sorcerer so close to his heart._

"_It is self-serving and will do everything in its power to keep itself safe."_

_He thought of the countless magical raids that had barraged the kingdom, and how Merlin had conveniently slipped away during all of them, only to reappear unscathed later on, and shuddered. How many times had Morgause mocked Arthur with knowledge she couldn't possibly possess? How long had that knowledge been coming from Merlin? _

_"The beast is very dangerous," Arthur concluded, "a threat to Camelot and it's people."_

_He thought of Morgana. Sweet Morgana. Who had disappeared and come back changed. The guilty look in Merlin's eyes whenever her name was mentioned, the way he seemed so blatantly unafraid and unsurprised when she turned. What had he done to her? How had Arthur not noticed his own manservant destroying the king's beautiful ward?_

"_Do whatever you can to keep this thing subdued," he ground out, his emotions getting the better of him. He imagined snapping the collar around Merlin's throat and burning him for his crimes against him, against his family, against Camelot._

_The jewel smith nodded and lifted an amethyst from a pouch still flashing full of flickering stones. "To weaken the mind," he said, and Arthur watched as the purple rock glittered in the dying light of the day._

"G-Guards," Arthur choked out as the memory faded. He needed to make things right, needed to fix things, needed to get _that bloody collar off of his neck_ but there was something bitter caught in his throat, and he swallowed and called again, "_Guards!"_

Heavy steps thudded down the corridor. Merlin's body tensed, his sobs stopping abruptly as the footsteps got louder. His face turned towards Arthur, stained with grit and tears-

And he was smiling.

Arthur's throat filled again. He took a few steps back.

"R-Running away again, A-Arthur?" Merlin hissed, still on the floor. His bloody teeth glinted behind his lips, but the malice was gone. Tears continued to slide down his cheeks, and his eyes kept darting between Arthur and the corridor, his smile twitching at the edges as the footsteps got louder.

He dropped his gaze to the device still pressed against Merlin's skin.

He had gotten what he wanted in the end.

Of course he had gotten what he wanted. He had gotten to savor the way the metal hissed as it closed around Merlin's windpipe. He had gotten to smile when Merlin let out a feeble noise and sunk to the ground of Arthur's chambers. He had stood motionless as Merlin dropped the breakfast tray and pitcher of wine, as the rubies tainted his blood and the nickel locked his muscles. He had felt triumph as he ordered the sorcerer to the deepest dungeons and he had felt pride every single time a shaking, traumatized guard handed him a report of Merlin's misery.

And now all he wanted was to take everything back.

"_GUARDS!" _he roared. They weren't moving fast enough, weren't saving Merlin from Arthur's mistakes as quickly as he needed to be saved. "_GUARDS!"_

The guards scrambled in suddenly, tripping over one another in their haste to make it to the doorway. Something akin to panic suddenly flashed through Merlin's eyes. The eerie smile dropped. Arthur ignored it.

"Guards, please...please escort him to Gaius' chambers," Arthur said. _Quickly. God, please just get him out of this cell, _was left unspoken.

Arthur realized his mistake the moment the guards seized Merlin's arms.

"N-No-" Merlin gasped, his eyes widening as he was dragged to his feet, "N-No p-please, I-I c-can't- n-no-" he tried to jerk his arms out of the guards' grip, but he was too weak and the guards' hands didn't collar and the torture had done their job, and Merlin came to a quivering halt between them. "Please. Please, _please-" _he shook his head, new tears streaming down his face, "D-don't-"

"Stop!" Arthur cried over Merlin's pleas, and the guards froze.

They looked at him expectantly. Merlin remained slumped between them, too exhausted to lift his head up.

"Put… put him down." Arthur said carefully.

The guards did as they were told, lowering Merlin back onto the stone floor and releasing his arms. Merlin curled into himself immediately, wrapping his arms around his bony knees and pressing his face into them, softly speaking into his own chest.

In the raw strain of Merlin's murmuring, Arthur knelt.

"Merlin," he said quietly, and, horrified, realized he hadn't called him by his name in weeks; not since he'd ordered his imprisonment and interrogation.

Merlin didn't respond to his name. _Had anybody called him by his name since he'd been locked down here_? Instead, he pulled his knees in tighter and continued whispering. He flicked a furtive glance at Arthur, then back to his bony knees, the syllables coming faster as Arthur leaned a little to hear them.

"L-leave me alone. Not again. Not again. I'm n-not... I-I don't kn-know- anything. I p-promise, I promise," he was saying, and Arthur's fears were confirmed.

He cursed. What was he _thinking?_ The guards had been in charge of torturing the man for the last few weeks, and Arthur had just _called them in and ordered them to drag him away._ The destination didn't matter; Merlin's fractured mind was unable to see the difference between _now_, when guards and orders meant salvation, and the day of his arrest, when orders and the very same guards meant a cell with questions and pain. And why would he? It had been the same for weeks: wake him up, strap him down, interrogate him into unconsciousness, repeat.

Merlin continued rocking, whispering his innocence into his cupped hands.

"Merlin, can you look at me?"

Merlin shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, "I d-don't k-know about the p-plans. I-I told y-you. I t-told y-you."

The plans.

_The plans._

"_Sire, the raids-" _Leon's voice echoed in Arthur's mind.

The memory came faster than the others, and Arthur wanted them to stop even as he convinced himself that he deserved the torture of reliving them.

"_-the raids are increasing as we speak. She is readying an army, sire. She heard of Merlin's imprisonment, and she will attack." Leon's face was carefully neutral as he relayed the news._

_Merlin had been in the dungeons for a week and a half, and Morgana was preparing an army. _

"_Does she intend to get her traitor back?" Arthur asked. _

_Leon shook his head slowly. "Your charade worked, sire. She believes him dead. All of Camelot does. The pyre was very convincing."_

_Arthur felt a little pride in that. A single announcement at dawn, a pig's carcass, a blazing pyre in the middle of the night, and Merlin was easily considered dead to the kingdom's people. He had hoped the false news would reach Morgause and Morgana -if they believed their rat was dead, they wouldn't worry about rescuing him-and then Arthur could interrogate Merlin about their plans without the threat of them barging in hanging over his head._

_The only problem was, Merlin had so far denied knowing any of their plans. And now Morgana was preparing an army._

"_How many days until she reaches the castle?"_

"_A fortnight, sire. Maybe a little more."_

"_Please tell the guards to move on to the next step of the interrogation. I want something out of the sorcerer before she arrives."_

"_Yes, sire." Leon said, shuffling away._

It was only four days later that the head guard had approached Arthur.

It was only four days later that he was told the methods weren't working.

It was only four days later that Arthur had told them to _get more creative_.

But it was four _weeks_ before Arthur had found out the truth:

_There had never been any fucking plans._

"I know, Merlin." Arthur said, pulling himself back into the present. Merlin needed help _now._ "And I'm not asking you about any plans."

"D-don't h-have a-any."

"I know." He tried to keep his voice soft while catching his eyes, but Merlin's gaze kept sliding away, following invisible patterns through the air and rolling from the guards' hands, to Arthur's hands, to their heavy boots, and back to his own broken fingers.

"Can you please look at me?"

Merlin shook his head. Arthur shuffled forward a few more inches.

"Yes, you can. I need you to." This time Merlin didn't even shake his head. He just closed his eyes even tighter. Arthur took a deep breath, sending the guards a pleading look. They hung back. The older one was shaking his head slowly, guilt lining his brow.

_It takes a lot to break a man like this,_ Arthur read in the guard's face, who was looking Merlin over and cataloging the damage done, no doubt remembering every cry of innocence each mark had forced out of the boy's throat. Arthur had read the initial reports. He knew that Merlin had talked back the first week, shouted the second, begged the third, cried the fourth, and whimpered his way through the fifth. He'd stopped reading midway through the fifth.

The guards hadn't had that option.

"God dammit, Merlin," he muttered, his tone softening again, "I'm not going to hurt you."

No response.

He looked around the cell in defeat, taking in the chair and the boot-prints smeared through the blood on the floor.

Oh.

_Oh._

_The guards._

"Guards," he said, and they rose to attention. "Please exit the cell and stand outside the door."

They looked only too happy to leave, and Arthur followed them halfway. Standing in the doorway, he could see his friend without being too close.

He looked awfully small in the cell alone.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Merlin remained in his tight ball, shivering. The older guard made a small noise in his throat, and Arthur looked down the hall to see him standing very still a few feet away, watching through the bars.

"He…" the guard began, but then stopped. He shook his head and turned towards the bars again.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask him to continue, when the whispering from within the cell suddenly stopped. Both men whipped their heads towards the silence.

Merlin was uncurling, his breathing slowing as he glanced around the now-empty cell. He placed his hands on the floor and scooted towards the nearest wall, avoiding the chair and the broken ropes in the center. He winced as he lifted his hands from the stone and studied them. A few of his fingernails were missing -_more creativity_, Arthur thought numbly -and his fingers had started to bleed.

Groaning, Merlin shoved his broken hands into his lap and leaned against the wall. Arthur took his chance, and carefully opened the door to the cell again.

Merlin's eyes slivered open.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi there, sorry for the slight lateness of this chapter. It's a bit shorter than the previous one, but I will be doing my best to publish another one this weekend, so (hopefully) you have that to look forward to! Updates might be a bit sporadic until the beginning of April (I'm working on a real-world project that is taking up a lot of my time). But I would like to take a moment to say that I promise, right now, that I will NOT abandon this story until it is finished. You have permission to bug me about it if it has been a few weeks and I haven't updated.**

**That being said, enjoy the third chapter!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

Groaning, Merlin shoved his broken hands into his lap and leaned against the wall. Arthur took his chance, and carefully opened the door to the cell again.

Merlin's eyes slivered open.

* * *

For a moment, nobody spoke. Merlin surveyed Arthur with slate-blue eyes, still slumped against the wall. His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving with the exertion of pulling air into his lungs. His fingers twitched.

He reminded Arthur of a cornered animal, waiting for the predator to deal the killing bite.

"C-come to f-finish m-me off, yeah?" he said, and let out another one of his chilling laughs. "N-Now that y-you know I can't..."

His hands writhed in his lap.

Arthur took a step into the room.

"No," he said, closing the door behind him. He knelt, getting onto Merlin's level and looking him straight in the eye. "...Now that I know you can't what?"

There was more suspicion in his voice than he had wanted, and he mentally cursed himself. He couldn't help it; being distrustful was his default. It had kept him alive on many occasions.

_Yes, and look where that got Merlin._

"Fuck, A-Arthur," Merlin said. He shook his head. "Y-you know what."

Arthur stared uncomprehending until Merlin deliberately shifted, his useless legs scraping against the floor. He succeeded in moving a few inches before collapsing against the wall again, exhausted. He cracked his eyes open to give Arthur a weak glare.

"That h-help?"

Silence.

"-I a-suh-sume execution is easier i-if y-your prisoner c-can't fight back."

Arthur recoiled, opening his mouth to correct him when Merlin smiled again. This time it was a real smile, pure Merlin, and Arthur wondered what could have possibly caused it until Merlin opened his mouth.

"D-do you think I'll s-see W-Will again? O-Or Lancelot?"

The smile wavered a little, his eyes glassy. The king's eyes widened.

"Merlin-! No, no, I'm not-I'm not going to execute you."

The smile dropped, and Merlin looked him straight in the eye.

"B-But I a-already a-asked you once."

"What? Asked me what?"

Merlin was starting to cry again.

"Please?"

"Merlin, I don't know what-"

"_Please."_

"I don't…"

"Please, just m-make it end."

And Merlin's eyes rolled back into his head.

_No._

That was the only word that Arthur had time to think before he was scrambling across the dungeon floor, still in a partial crouch.

_No. No, No, No…_

He reached Merlin's limp form in seconds.

_Please, don't do this. Not now._

His hands hovered anxiously over Merlin's body, afraid to touch him, afraid to make things worse.

_He can't get worse if he is already dead, _a voice in his mind muttered. Arthur growled and shook his head to clear it.

Merlin was _not _dead. Arthur refused to believe it. He couldn't be. After enduring weeks of interrogation, there was no way Merlin could give up _now, _after Arthur knew the truth. He couldn't die the day he was given his freedom back. Arthur couldn't live with that.

"C'mon, Merlin."

There was a long moment of silence.

"C'mon…"

And then, Merlin's emaciated chest shuddered and lifted.

For a second, Arthur didn't understand what he was seeing. Then the second passed, and Arthur took note of how shallow the servant's breathing was, and how his fingers were still bleeding sluggishly onto the floor, how Merlin's lips were a faint blue.

"Shit," he said before spinning around in the cell. He needed to get Merlin help -he needed to get Merlin medical attention.

The guilty-looking guard from before was still standing just beyond the cell walls, watching, and Arthur made a split-second decision.

_Damn it all to Hell, _he thought, and beckoned the guard to enter the cell. Panic attack or no, Arthur needed the guard's help.

The guard shuffled forward, his eyes worried.

"Help me," Arthur pleaded, motioning towards the frail sorcerer. The guard hesitated in the doorway. Whether it was out of fear for himself or fear for Merlin's well being, they didn't have time.

"He's _unconscious," _Arthur hissed, "Get in here. Now."

The guard glanced at Merlin's bruised face once more, closed his eyes for a moment, and then moved into action. Kneeling beside Arthur, he, too, looked afraid to touch him.

"What should I…?"

"Help me lift him," Arthur grunted, sliding an arm beneath Merlin's legs. The guard nodded and quickly maneuvered Merlin's bony shoulders away from the wall, supporting his head like a child's. Arthur got a hand under Merlin's spine, and carefully, with the help of the guard, stood.

Once up, Arthur was startled by how light Merlin was. The ridges of his spine and ribs were pressing uncomfortably into his forearm, and his bony hips jutted grotesquely beneath his skin. His limbs, now dangling freely, were long and thin, the knots of his bones far too prominent.

Arthur took a moment to breathe as the guard removed his cape and draped it over Merlin's naked body. This aspect, at least, wasn't the guards creativity. It was Arthur's.

"_Sire, the sorcerer doesn't seem to respond to pain."_

It was the middle of the second week of Merlin's imprisonment, Leon had reported that Morgana had delayed her attack another fortnight, and the guard who reported to Arthur kept coming back looking more and more guilty.

"_Of course he does," Arthur said nonchalantly, "Everybody responds to pain. I told you to be creative. "_

"_No. We've underestimated his tolerance, sire." The guard looked at his hands. They were trembling slightly, and Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. If his guards couldn't deal with a little torture of a known sorcerer and ally of Morgana, then what good were they?_

"_Have you tried cutting back his rations?"_

_The guard looked startled. "I'm sorry?"_

"_Rations. Have you cut back his rations?"_

_The guard's mouth fell open slightly. "His- No! No, he is already on half-rations, sire. That is the standard protocol for a sorcerer during interrogation."_

_Arthur hummed. "But I think you and I both know this is not standard_. _Morgana is forming an army as we speak. There is no time for protocol when Camelot's citizens are at stake."_

_The guard was silent. Arthur leaned forward._

"_Do I make myself clear?"_

_The guard nodded. "Yes, sire," he whispered, and exited the chamber._

"Sire?"

Arthur was startled out of his thoughts by someone worriedly speaking to him. His eyes focused and he found himself still standing in Merlin's cell, cradling the boy to his chest. The guard was standing in front of him with his brow furrowed, speaking.

"Sire, we need to go. Now."

Arthur didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

**Would you believe me if I said I don't hate Arthur?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! I promised another chapter at some point this weekend, so here ya go! **

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

"Sire, we need to go. Now."

Arthur didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

The hallways had never been so long. As Arthur skidded through the castle with Merlin in his arms, he wondered how he'd never noticed the sheer amount of stairs and hallways there were between the dungeons and the physician's chambers. Shouldn't they be closer together? How often did prisoners need medical attention?

Behind him, the guard's boots slapped the stones rhythmically, his breathing fast. Although the guard hadn't been needed once Arthur had gotten Merlin off of the floor, there was no time for a discussion or a dismissal.

"C'mon, Merlin," Arthur whispered, glancing down at the pale face half-covered by the guard's red cloak. Each step jarred Merlin's spine and ribcage hard enough to bruise Arthur's forearms, but he took comfort in the shuddering breaths he could feel beneath each bone.

"Just a little bit longer…"

"Arthur?"

Someone shouted his name as he passed, a purple blur on the edge of the hallway. Arthur didn't bother to check who it was; he didn't need to. He'd recognize Gwen's voice anywhere, and right now she was one of the last people he wanted to see.

What explanation could he possibly have for what he did, anyway?

"Arthur!"

Gwen sounded angry, confused, and maybe slightly frightened, but she couldn't have possibly known what was in the cloak. As far as anyone was concerned, Merlin had died over a month ago on the pyre, and if Gwen had spoken more than a few words to him since then, he couldn't recall them. He didn't want to know how she was going to react when she found out the truth.

He kept moving.

"What is going on?" She shouted, now far behind him. The guard had stopped and was now trying to speak to her calmly, but her voice still echoed off the stones and followed Arthur down the hallway. He blinked rapidly as the tapestries fluttering around them blurred, her voice ringing in his head the same way it had the day of Merlin's supposed death.

She had known of Merlin's arrest almost immediately. The king's own manservant had been arrested within the castle's walls; the entire kingdom was murmuring their suspicions. It was only a matter of time before somebody would want answers. Arthur had expected Gwaine, but he had been wrong.

_"Arthur, what is going on?" Gwen's hands were on Arthur's shoulders, trying to pull him back as he passed their chambers. Despite her size, Gwen was strong, and she had determination on her side. Arthur found his exit slowed. He spun on his heel to face her in the doorway._

_She was inches away from his nose, staring him down with a hand still on his shoulder. Her eyes and brow w_ere fierce, _her hair unkept. She had been waiting for him to return from the dungeons. He brushed a few stray hairs away from her face, but she leaned away from his touch, still frowning._

_"Guinevere…" he whispered, but he didn't know how to say the rest. How was he supposed to explain to her that their best friend had betrayed them all? That he was returning from the dungeons after chaining an unconscious Merlin to a wall to await his fate? How was he suppsed to tell her that there were guards readying for his interrogation, that she was going to need to live the next few weeks, months, maybe years with her ex-best friend locked in a cell somewhere beneath her feet?_

_Merlin had made too many friends during his time in Camelot. He had tricked too many people into loving him._

_The knowledge would break her._

_It didn't matter that the crime he committed was the worst act of treason, nor would it matter that he was Morgana's ally. Somebody would try to come to his aid sooner or later, be it a knight or a peasant or Morgana herself, and then Arthur would be forced to punish them, too. How could he live with that? How could Gwen live with all of that?_

_The knowledge would break everyone._

_And so Arthur had decided, as he stared into Gwen's angry eyes, that it would be better for her, for everyone, if Merlin died that day. He would die a traitor, yes, but he would die as yet another person Arthur had allowed to get too close. They could grieve him if he was dead. They could hate him and move on with their lives. They could receive closure, something that wasn't possible if they knew he was living beneath Camelot._

_Gwen's scowl had faded into horror as Arthur cautiously told her the tale of Merlin's arrest, carefully_ _leaving out his suspicions of his alliance with Morgana. He choked on his words as he described a fictional sentencing wherein Merlin's death had been decided, and stood very still as she raged at him and beat her fists against his chest. It was a long time before she calmed enough to sob into his shoulder:_

_"You can't let that happen."_

_Arthur, who had been hugging her close with his eyes squeezed shut, suddenly released her. The lie might have been pounding in his ears, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out her own words of betrayal._

_She wanted to save Merlin. She wanted to save a sorcerer, and she wanted Arthur to help her._

_The next words he spoke_ _were clipped as he stood from their position on the floor. Gwen looked up at him with confusion._

_"There's nothing to be done," he ground out._

_"Arthur, you must try! Merlin is a good man. He does not deserve to die."_

_"No..." he said, staring out the window behind her, "...I think he does."_

_Gwen's eyes widened, and she stood slowly, her eyes on Arthur's._

_"What?"_

_Arthur met her gaze._

_"I said, I think he deserves it."_

_Gwen's hand went to her mouth. "Arthur-"_

_"And if anybody thinks differently, they can join him." There were no lies in his words this time, and Gwen's mouth snapped shut._

_This time, when he left the room, Gwen didn't try to stop him._

_"Arthur Pendragon!" She shouted before the door shut between them, and Arthur looked back once to see her eyes were cold, her brow furrowed with anger once again. When she spoke, her words were even and true._

_"I will never forgive you for this."_

_Arthur smirked sadly, but said nothing._

_He had a fake execution to organize._

Arthur sniffed, trying madly to blink the tears out of his eyes as Merlin grew heavier. He had lied to his wife's face and put his servant through Hell. He didn't want to face the repercussions now.

Glancing down at the bundle in his arms, he was struck with the thought that, maybe, he already was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! As I write this story, I have been creating and listening to a playlist of songs that help me get in this (rather bleak) mood. I'm going to post some of the songs on my page a little later today, if anybody is interested in knowing what kind of music inspires this story. The song that I listened to for a lot of this chapter was "My Skin," by Natalie Merchant.**

**Anyway, as always, enjoy this chapter!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

"_I will never forgive you for this."_

_Arthur smirked sadly, but said nothing._

_He had a fake execution to organize._

* * *

Sunlight flashed rapidly across Merlin's face as they ran by the windows. It cast long shadows from Merlin's dark lashes across his hollow cheekbones, and Arthur needed to look away. He looked too much like death.

The hall that lead to Gaius's chambers was dim as he entered it. The windows had been blacked out on the day of Merlin's supposed death, and anybody who had attempted to remove the fabric had been met with a snarling Gwaine and a sad-eyed Percival.

"_You son of a bitch! He was your friend!" Gwaine growled, throwing a handful of black fabric onto Arthur's desk. Arthur calmly brushed it aside._

"_It has been two weeks, Sir Gwaine. People are having trouble finding Gaius's chambers." He hoped Percival, standing a few feet behind Gwaine, would see sense. But Percival was standing still, silently watching the two of them. Arthur cleared his throat._

"_You must take it down eventually. Which is why I asked a few of the servants to begin the process for you."_

"_I don't need anybody to help me mourn."_

"_The man you are mourning never existed. We have been over this before. I allowed you to hang up your silly grief blankets, but enough is enough. It is time to move on. He is gone."_

_Throughout the speech, Arthur didn't bother to look up from his desk. He continued to sign papers, the wad of cloth teetering near his elbow. Gwaine was trembling with rage, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Percival put a large hand on Gwaine's shoulder, stopping a physical confrontation before one began._

_Gwaine's hands relaxed slightly, and Percival began steering him towards the door. Gwaine hesitated long enough to snatch the fabric off of the table._

"_Ten days."_

_Arthur looked up. "What?"_

_Gwaine let out a breath. "Ten days. Merlin's been gone for ten days. Not two weeks." He leaned in the doorway. "You can at least remember the date."_

_The next morning, Arthur found that the fabric had been replaced._

Now, the fabric was ripped in a few places, casting fractured shadows across the walls and floor. Arthur took comfort in the darkness. At least with so little light, he couldn't distinguish between the crimson stains of blood and the red dye of the cloak. At least in the dark he couldn't see his own mistakes.

The door to the physician's chambers arrived far too fast and not fast enough. Arthur turned his body and jammed his shoulder into the old wood, knocking the door open without the use of his occupied hands. He spilled into the room gasping.

"Gaius…" He croaked, his voice getting caught between his labored breaths, "Gaius..."

Arthur hadn't set foot in the room since Merlin's arrest, and the chambers were darker than the hallway. The windows were covered in the same black fabric, but unlike the hallway, nobody had tried to take them down. There were no rips or holes to let the light in here, only a few candles dripping their wax onto the floors and tables.

"_Gaius!"_ Arthur yelled when he finally managed to draw a breath deep enough to get the word out, "Gaius! I need your help! _Please!"_

_Please, don't be gone. Please._

The sound of Arthur's breathing softened, and he was able to hear the crackling whir of Merlin's lungs fighting to open and close. The chambers were empty.

"Please," he whispered.

The door to Merlin's old room creaked softly, and a gravelly voice came from the darkness.

"Sire."

Arthur's head jerked up. A stooped shadow was emerging from the room, leaning on the wall for support.

"...You need something."

It wasn't stated as a question, but Arthur nearly collapsed in the middle of the room, his relief hit him so quickly. As it was, he barely managed to catch himself on his knees.

"Yes," he gasped, "Yes, yes. It's me. It's me, Gaius, I need-"

He stopped himself mid-sentence. He had been so worried about getting Merlin to help that he had entirely forgotten how Gaius might react once he got there.

"Gaius… I…" He looked at the man in his arms, now starting to shiver beneath the cloak. "I've made a horrible mistake."

The elderly physician stopped his shuffle towards the king. His eyes were expressionless, his voice the careful neutrality of concealed hatred.

"What have you done now?"

Arthur closed his eyes and raised his trembling arms. Gaius kept his gaze on Arthur for a moment longer before he looked at the body covered by the red cloak. A pale arm was dangling out of the tangle of fabric, the broken fingers stretched towards the floor. Blood oozed from the mutilated flesh where fingernails should have been.

"Please, Gaius... He needs your help."

Gaius moved closer.

"Who is he?"

Arthur shook his head. "Gaius-"

"Who _is _he, Arthur? What innocent boy have you harmed now?"

Arthur choked on a sob and shifted the weight in his arms. Gaius raised his hand and grasped a corner of the cloak.

"Please-" Arthur started, but he had no words to finish where he was going. He closed his eyes and Gaius lifted the cloak.

There was a bony shoulder in a discolored socket. A slender collarbone jutting above a gashed, infected chest. There was a long column of bruised throat, weighted down by a horrible, heavy collar, and-

Gaius made an inhuman noise. It came from low in his chest, a keening sob that caught itself in his throat and choked its way past his teeth. He stumbled back, grasping the edge of a table to hold himself up. The cloak fell back into place.

"Gaius, I-"

"Get...Get him to my table," Gaius forced out. Arthur didn't move. The world was crashing around him too quickly. "_Now!_"

Arthur scrambled up, the cloak falling away as he maneuvered the limp body onto the nearest table. Gaius pressed a hand to his mouth as Merlin's body was revealed, but quickly knocked the contents of the table onto the floor, making room for Merlin's long limbs.

Lying on the table, there seemed to be far too much empty space.

Gaius hesitated as he took in the full extent of the damage done to his ward's naked body. The hesitation only lasted a moment, however, before he pulled the neutral mask back on and reverted to physician mode. He clenched his jaw.

"Get out."

Arthur lifted his chin. "What?"

"I said _get out." _He was trying to keep his voice even, but it trembled all the same. "Leave me and fetch Gwen."

Arthur gaped. "But- Gaius. I'm- I'm already here, and-"

"And?"

"And… I just thought I could help."

"Oh, did you now? Because you have obviously been doing such a great job so far? Exactly how much more _help_ are you going to inflict upon him before you're finished?"

Arthur shut his mouth. Gaius turned away. "That's what I thought. Go, Arthur."

"But I'm-"

"_Go!" _Gaius slammed his fist against the table and watched with stony eyes as Arthur jumped and fled.

He looked down at Merlin, and the physician mask slipped.

"Oh, my boy… What has he done to you?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! This update is coming a little early, as I probably won't be around Wednesday. **

**Enjoy!**

**~Rain**

* * *

**Previously...**

"_Go!" _Gaius slammed his fist against the table and watched with stony eyes as Arthur jumped and fled.

He looked down at Merlin, and the physician mask slipped.

"Oh, my boy… What has he done to you?"

* * *

"...Gaius?"

It felt like only seconds before there was a tentative knock on the door and a soft voice calling his name through the wood. Gaius stood from the fireplace where he had been boiling water to clean Merlin's wounds. He had a fever, but Gaius couldn't figure out what was causing it until he could _see _the extent of his injuries.

"Yes, Gwen!" he called, moving towards the door. He shot a glance back towards Merlin. His breathing was still far too rapid and shallow, and Gaius feared it was more than just a damaged rib cage. He wouldn't know until he treated them. And he needed Gwen for that.

Gaius opened the door a crack and eyed Gwen. Her cheeks were flushed, from anger or running, he didn't know, and she seemed to be alone.

"Is Arthur with you?" Gaius asked through the crack. It was a habit that they and many of the knights had fallen into in the last month, as they all feared and loathed the king's paranoia and fury. Avoiding Arthur was safest, when Gwaine could barely go a few minutes without punching something and Gwen still refused to speak openly to him.

Gwen's face darkened at the mention of the King, just as it had every other time Gaius had mentioned him. Gaius liked to speak his anger; Gwen liked to swallow it. They'd learned a lot about each other since the execution.

The _fake _execution.

"No," she said, and Gaius could see the disgust in her eyes, "He ordered me to your chambers and ran off."

Gaius opened the door a little wider.

"That is probably for the best, Guinevere." Another habitual response, but this time the meaning was different, and Gwen knew it. Her brows knitted at Gaius's tone.

"Gaius?" She didn't need to ask if something was wrong, and Gaius didn't make her. They didn't always need words anymore; they shared their loss.

"I…" he trailed off, and Gwen tried to peek around his shoulder into the room beyond, worry shining in her eyes. Gaius moved to block her view. "I think it would be better if I forewarned you."

Gwen stayed silent, her eyes trying to read his as Gaius searched for the words to prepare Gwen for what she was about to see. When none came, Gwen spoke.

"Just let me in, Gaius. You don't need to say anything, just open the door. I'm ready for it."

"I don't believe you are, Guinevere," he whispered, but he pushed the door open anyway. "Arthur brought him in."

Gwen stepped in bravely. She was prepared to see Elyan lying on the cot, or Gwaine nursing a training wound. She steeled herself for the shock of a loved one lying injured-

And found the cot to be empty.

"I don't understand-?"

She was turning to ask Gaius what she was supposed to be looking for when she saw him.

In the corner, next to the vials of potions and racks of herbs, a child was lying on Gaius's kitchen table. He was dirty and pale and breathing unevenly, with limbs too long and skeleton too prominent. Gwen was immediately reminded of a beggar boy asleep in the streets, but it didn't quite fit. He seemed a little too old, somehow, although no adult would ever be so skinny. And there was something more familiar about him, something Gwen couldn't place.

It wasn't until she noticed the dark glint of a collar around the boy's neck that she registered that the boy was a sorcerer, and there was no doubt in her mind that Gaius had rescued him from the same fate Merlin had met. Her fists clenched.

_It was probably even the same collar_.

No wonder Gaius was so tense.

The kettle over the fire began to boil, and Gaius jumped up to get it, setting it on a stool next to the prone form of the boy. He made eye contact with Gwen. He seemed to be waiting for something, some sort of reaction from her.

Gwen's fists relaxed. They might have failed to save Merlin, but they _could_ help this boy avoid the same fate. She grabbed a rag off a nearby shelf and gave Gaius a determined look. He seemed surprised for a moment, but then mirrored her, dipping a rag into the water and wiping some of the grime off of the boy's face.

To say Gaius was surprised by Gwen's actions was an understatement. He had expected _more- _more tears, more yelling, more questions- but instead, he saw grim resolve and determination. Apparently she was even stronger than he thought.

His hands were trembling as he worked, and when he started to lift the rag from Merlin's skin, he fumbled and nearly dropped it onto the floor. Gwen crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"I can do this," she said, accepting his rag as well as her own. She moved her attention towards Merlin's face, pulling the cloth away from a sunken cheekbone and eye socket.

And promptly dropped the rags on the floor.

"G-G-Gaius-" she stuttered, reeling back and falling against his chest.

_Oh, Gods, _Gaius thought, _had she not realized-?_

Immediately Gaius moved and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and stroking her hair.

"It's okay, it's okay," he whispered, though his own voice was shaking.

"But...But that...it's- it's-"

Gaius closed his eyes. Gwen found her voice.

"It's _Merlin," _she gasped, breaking out of the hold Gaius had on her and flinging herself against the table. Her hands came up to touch his face, gently cupping his hollow cheeks and running her thumbs along his cheekbones.

"Merlin…?" She whispered. He didn't respond. She tilted his head to the side. "Oh my God."

A long gash ran from his temple to his jawbone, barely missing his ear. Both of his eyes were bruised black, his lower lip was split, and bloody grime was still caked to the parts of his face that Gaius hadn't cleaned.

But there was no mistaking him.

It was Merlin.

"What… what happened? How-?" She was looking straight at the warlock, but she didn't believe he was there. "Gaius, but he's- he's dead. He died. He died _five weeks ago_. I-I saw it. You saw it! He was burned! He was..."

She suddenly seemed to notice the ligature marks around his wrists. She released his face and gingerly lifted one of his hands.

"What... What are these?" She asked.

She knew the marks; Gaius knew she'd seen them before. But they had always been on _other_ people; they seemed entirely different when they were wrapping their way around _Merlin's_ wrists, and she refused to comprehend their meaning.

_He was supposed to be dead._

Gaius stooped and lifted the rags off of the floor. Gwen wasn't the only one who was trying to avoid thinking about where Merlin had been and what he had been put through in the last five weeks.

They both knew the signs. They both knew what made marks like that. They both knew why they were there. But they couldn't say it, not yet. Because this was Merlin, the most innocent of them all.

The same Merlin who died a month ago.

The same Merlin who had been accused of powerful sorcery.

The same Merlin who had been imprisoned and burned at the stake before anybody could even get to his cell to comfort him.

The same Merlin who had betrayed Camelot to save the very king who betrayed him back.

And if they gave what happened to Merlin a word, someone would be responsible. And that person would be Arthur.

They didn't want to think about whether or not Arthur and Merlin could survive living with what had been done, and Gaius and Gwen couldn't grieve two more people, let alone the same person twice.

So they carefully avoided the subject for a few long moments as Gwen pretended to not understand the marks on Merlin's wrists and Gaius busied himself with fetching new rags from the cupboard.

And then, as if in answer, Merlin shuddered and whimpered and broke their fragile ignorance.

And they knew.

_Torture._

Gwen's eyes filled with tears, but Gaius didn't stop moving. With acceptance came urgency, and Gaius knew he needed to focus _now_.

Gaius the physician knew how to help.

Gaius the father didn't.

So he let the physician side take over.

"You should sit down, Guinevere," Gaius said gently, pulling a few more rags from the shelf along with a scrap of parchment. He had already waited far too long to begin his examination, and God only knew what had been done to Merlin over such an extended period of imprisonment. Gaius needed to know every detail if he was going to keep Merlin alive, and it needed to be documented. He took a deep breath, dunked another rag into the bucket of water, and began.

As layers of filth peeled away, it revealed things that were even uglier. The dirt had only masked the damage.

Burns. Contusions. Hemorrhage. Atrophy. Infection. Starvation.

New bruises overlapped old ones. Atrophy ate away at his limbs. Vomit stained his chest. Urine and excrement stuck to his legs.

Gaius began to get a fuller sense of what had been done to his ward. Merlin's last five weeks were written into his body for all to see, and Gaius read them all with a heavy heart.

Gwen helped by fetching and boiling water. She stared into the dirty buckets as she walked through the halls in silence, trying to find meaning in the swirling crimson mess. It was only when she returned for the third time that either of them spoke.

She walked in and was surprised to see that Gaius was standing a few feet away from the table, grasping the back of a chair with a white-knuckled grip. Merlin's left arm was dangling over the side, and all but that arm seemed to be clean. Before she could ask why, Gaius realized she was there. He turned his head to stare at her, rage flushing his cheeks as he ground out two words:

"_Iron dust._"


	7. Chapter 7

**This one is very long. I didn't have time to pare it down, and I wanted to get it out before I forgot to.**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

She walked in and was surprised to see that Gaius was standing a few feet away from the table, grasping the back of a chair with a white-knuckled grip. Merlin's left arm was dangling over the side, and all but that arm seemed to be clean. Before she could ask why, Gaius realized she was there. He turned his head to stare at her, rage flushing his cheeks as he ground out two words:

"Iron dust."

* * *

The words meant nothing to Gwen. Maybe she had heard him wrong? She set the bucket down on the table near Merlin's legs. Now that he was clean, Gaius had laid a sheet across his lower abdomen to protect at least a small amount of Merlin's privacy against anybody else who came into the room.

"Sorry?" she said.

"They...Arthur…" Gaius's rage seemed to be getting the better of him. "Iron dust. They used _bloody_ _iron dust_…"

"Iron dust?" Gwen asked, dread pooling in her stomach. "What does it do?"

He attempted to keep a level tone. "Your father was a blacksmith. You can tell me what iron dust is."

Gwen thought back to her father, of his proud smile as he sharpened his swords, of the fine spray of sparks and sediment flying up and bouncing against his thick leather gloves.

"The iron that flecks off of blades? But how does that have anything to do with Merlin _or _Arthur?"

"Look at his arm, Guinevere," Gaius said, his voice taking on some urgency. He stood and began frantically flipping through books, searching for something. He seemed to find the page he wanted, because he jabbed his finger at it and shouted, "Quickly!"

Gwen rushed to lift Merlin's left arm, palm facing up. She had been wrong -his arm wasn't dirty. It was paper-white and felt just as fragile, and the "dirt" was an ugly, festering wound that started at his inner elbow and stretched halfway down his forearm.

"What do you see?" Gaius called, running his finger down the page, "Describe it to me!"

The skin was ragged around the edges, as if the wound was made with an uneven blade or with multiple sporadic slashes. It wasn't bleeding, but layers of skin were missing, and the exposed flesh underneath was mottled pink and red and black and yellow.

"It looks like a burn..." she said, looking away. Her stomach heaved. She didn't want to be studying Merlin's burn wounds.

_Except-_

She glanced back. _Were burns always those colors?_ "...Only there's something not quite right about it."

"What? _What _doesn't look right about it?" He was still running his fingers along one of the pages of his books.

"I don't…" Gwen trailed off, unsure. It _did_ look like a burn, at first glance. But as she looked at it longer, she became aware that the skin surrounding the wound wasn't untouched. Instead, veins were bulging right under the surface, snaking away from the damaged tissue and running up his arm before disappearing. They were a sickening green-grey through his thin skin.

"...it looks like... Blood poisoning?" Gwen bit her lip, "can you get blood poisoning from a burn?"

A few of Merlin's tendons twitched, his fingers curled, and a few more greyish tendrils threaded their way up and across Merlin's wrist.

_"Gaius!"_ She shouted in alarm, not taking her eyes off of the spreading grey.

Gaius stood. "Let me see." Gwen turned the arm, but Gaius simply seized it from her grasp and squinted at it.

"His veins-" Gwen began, but Gaius shushed her, running his fingers along the corrupted vessels. He felt Merlin's forehead, then his arm, then his forehead again.

And then he pressed his finger right into the center of the gash.

Gwen squeaked in surprise and disgust, and Gaius hissed and pulled his hand back as if he, too, had been burned.

"Just as I feared," he said, turning and flipping through another book. "We're going to need more water!" he shouted over his shoulder, "And lots of it!" Rifling through his herb stores, he muttered, "Calendula… Calendula...Ah!" He held a small jar of dull orange blossoms in the air, and saw that Gwen was still standing in the room. "_Go!_"

Gwen didn't even ask. She just jumped and ran, grabbing a pair of buckets on her way out.

When she returned with her arms filled with the weight of the water, Gaius was frantically grinding the orange blossoms in a bowl.

"This should stop the infection," he muttered, "those bastards…"

"Infection? Is that what that is?"

She placed the buckets with the first one and stole a nervous glance towards Merlin. It didn't look like any infection Gwen had ever seen.

"Yes, and no," Gaius said, still crushing the blossoms.

"Then what is wrong with his arm?"

Instead of responding, Gaius lifted the bowl and began spooning honey and water into it. The blossoms crackled and turned a more vibrant hue of orange. He waited a few seconds as the paste thickened.

"I'm going to need you to hold his arm still. Whatever you do, _you keep his arm still._ Do you understand? It is important."

Gwen was becoming increasingly confused and frustrated. Gaius moved the buckets of water off of the table and placed them by his feet.

"Fine," she snapped. Merlin hadn't moved save for a few twitches and whimpers since she had come in. Gaius was giving her busywork. She braced her hands against Merlin's forearm.

"Now will you tell me what's happened?"

It seemed as if he hadn't even heard her.

"Are you ready, Guinevere?" Gaius was holding the bowl over Merlin's injured arm.

"Ready for _what?_" Gwen asked, exasperated.

In response, Gaius tipped a spoonful of the paste onto the burn.

Merlin's eyes shot open.

Gwen suddenly found her job difficult as the young warlock let out a cry and began thrashing violently. Gwen nearly let go, but compensated by leaning most of her weight into the limb, horrified. Gaius spread a little more paste over the wound, covering the gaping hole entirely. Merlin's thrashing intensified. The pale tendons in his neck stood out in sharp relief against the dark collar still cinched around his throat.

"Gaius-" Gwen gasped, but her voice was drowned out by Merlin as he opened his mouth and let out a hoarse yell.

Gaius frowned deeply, studying the wound as the mixture crackled along Merlin's torn skin. After what seemed like an eternity, Gaius thrust his hand into a bucket of water on the floor and lifted out a goblet-full, pouring the contents over his arm and washing away most of the orange substance.

Merlin stopped yelling, his thrashing slowing slightly as he gasped in lungfuls of air. Gwen relaxed.

And then Gaius spooned more of the paste over the wound.

Merlin's back arched off of the table as the mixture popped and hissed. He screamed again, but this time it was sharper, more desperate.

"P-Please!" he shrieked, words twisted into his screaming, "I p-pr-promise, I didn't d-do anything! I d-d-don't know a-anything, I swear!" Gaius poured another cup of water across the burn. Gwen had only a moment to register that it was coming away a duller color before it was replaced by another spoonful.

"Y-You _lied!_" Merlin sobbed, "You said you w-would stop. _Y-You said you would stop!_ Please, please, I promise...!"

Gwen's grip began to slide as water-honeyed pulp flowed over her fingers. She leaned more weight into the arm.

"Gaius!" She yelled again as another cup of water brought forth a wave of greyish pus, "Gaius, what are you doing?!"

"Just...Just wait a little longer!" Gaius shouted, repeating the rinsing process. Merlin's movements were weakening, but he was still begging and jerking beneath Gwen's touch.

Gwen's eyes creased with worry, but she held on.

She didn't know how long it went on, but by the end, everybody was exhausted. Merlin's movements had slowed until he was just trembling, tremors moving up and down his body in sporadic bursts. The burn had started to bleed and was running in rivulets down both his and Gwen's arms.

Gaius rinsed his arm a final time. Merlin lay on the table with his eyes screwed shut.

"Y-you said it would stop," he whimpered, "A-And y-you said you w-would come b-back. Y-you p-promised. I-I did e-everything you asked, a-and y-you promised… y-you said...y-you s-said…"

Gwen released the arm, backing away. Merlin's fingers twitched, but he didn't seem to have enough strength to move any more. His eyelids fluttered, his gaze sluggishly moving towards hers. There was no recognition in his eyes as a final spasm rocked his body and he passed out.

Gwen immediately whirled on Gaius.

"What was _that?_ What just happened? What did I just help you do?" She'd never heard screams like that, full of so much agony and despair, and she didn't want to think she had been the cause of them.

Gaius hesitated. "It is not important right now." He stooped to place the bowl on the floor next to the now-empty water buckets. He grunted as he straightened again, and Gwen was struck with how _old_ he looked. He'd aged in the last month, as if the weight of the world was slowly pulling him towards the floor. "What _are_ important are the injuries we don't know about yet. Please, help me sit him up."

She didn't move.

"Guinevere?"

She was staring at Merlin.

"_Guinevere."_

She jumped.

"Please. Help me sit him up."

She moved almost robotically, sliding her hand under his sharp spine and neck. Her fingers made contact with the cold collar as they eased the man into an upright position. Gwen held his shoulders to keep him from falling when he started to slouch forward. They were so narrow.

_Like a child._

"Can… can we at least take the collar off?" She whispered, brushing one of her thumbs against it. "Please?"

Gaius looked pained. "I'm not sure we can right now."

Her voice didn't get any louder, but her breathing sped up. "But..."

"Guinevere, it does not matter right now. His physical injuries-"

"But what about _later_? Can we take it off later? He-"

"Please, you need to focus right now. The collar is the least of our worries. His breathing-"

"But- But it's not like he's stuck with that thing _forever_, is it? He can't wear a collar for the rest of his life! He-"

"_Guinevere!" _Gaius raised his voice. "You need to calm down. I have no intention of leaving the collar on."

"But you said-"

"Dammit, Guinevere! If we don't start helping him _now, _he might not _have _a 'rest of his life' at all! Now will you _please focus and help me?!"_

That got Gwen to shut up. Gaius took a breath. He didn't regret what he had just said, but he did regret the need to use such words.

"I'm sorry, but I need your help and I need you to understand the gravity of what is going on."

"Then _tell me!_" Gwen burst out, and Gaius was startled by the sudden change in tone. "I've been asking you what is going on for the last _hour_ and you keep saying it isn't important, when obviously it _is! _If you want me to help, then you need to start including me! Where was Merlin? What does iron dust do? Why was he screaming those things? Where did all of _this _come from?"

She looked pointedly at Merlin's bared torso, lined with trauma. Gaius noticed that her hands, bracing Merlin's shoulders, were still stained with his blood.

"I know you are trying to protect me, but, _please_, stop! I don't know what they do to sorcerers, I can't even guess, but you obviously do and _you can't keep hiding it from me!"_

Gaius was stunned. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Gwen stood glaring at Gaius, her chest heaving.

Between them, Merlin remained bonelessly in Gwen's arms.

Gaius took a deep breath.

"His fever should start going down now."

Gwen continued to glare at him. "_Gaius-_"

He cut her off, his eyes a warning.

"Hush. Can you wrap his ribs? I believe he will have at least a few that are broken. I don't think I am strong enough to do it tightly, and I am afraid that he won't be able to breathe properly if his ribs aren't set soon..."

He lifted a roll of bandages and a small jar of honey from his table and held them out to Gwen. Gwen shifted her grip on Merlin and took them, but didn't move to use them.

"Tell me, Gaius." It was an order. It was obvious Gaius knew at least some of what had happened to Merlin, because he hadn't even _checked _his ribs yet.

Gaius sighed. He knew he needed to start speaking. Even if the methods for interrogating sorcerers had changed a little since the Purge, the basics were more than likely the same, and Gwen was right. She couldn't help if she didn't understand.

"Iron dust is not just a by-product of bladesmithing," Gaius nodded towards the bandages, urging her to begin with the more minor injuries. "It has many other uses. But most of them are utilized in potion-making."

He took some of Merlin's dead weight and began the slow process of running his fingers over each of his prominent ribs, seeking out breaks and cracks. Gwen straightened, her glare softening as she realized he was finally explaining things to her.

"But there are… other uses."

Gwen glanced at Merlin's bleeding arm. Gaius breathed deeply.

"Are you sure you want to know these things?"

She nodded.

"Very well," Gaius sighed. "During the Purge, it was discovered that iron, along with its many medical and practical properties, also served a very magical purpose as well."

Gwen undid one of the bandages and began wrapping it around his thin wrist. She covered the ligature marks, wishing that not being able to see them meant they weren't there.

"They found that if a sorcerer was bound by iron, he no longer had access to his magic. So Uther, naturally, decreed that all chains in the kingdom should be made of iron, and... he began to experiment." Pause. Breathe. There was a cracked rib on his left side. He brought it to Gwen's attention before continuing.

"There were… a lot of things that Uther did that I would not like to discuss. And things I would not like to think about. But one of the things he found was iron _dust_ was extremely versatile. Better than straight iron. It could be hidden in a great many things, and mixed with things, to render sorcerers weak, sick, powerless, or physically incapable, amongst other things, depending on the dose and how it was administered." Pause. There was a broken rib, just above the cracked one. Gaius grimaced.

"And so he began to use the dust in the standard procedure of interrogating sorcerers...should I stop?"

Gwen looked slightly ill. _Interrogation._ Merlin had been _interrogated. _She'd already known, she supposed, but she didn't like to hear the words out loud.

"No," she said, a little too forcefully. She breathed, "No, I'll be fine, keep going."

Gaius gave her a concerned look, but carried on, "The quickest way to administer iron dust is through the digestive tract or through the bloodstream. Digestive tract causes more general weakness and sickness. The bloodstream, however, is far more painful and potent. It essentially contaminates a sorcerer's magic through their blood. If done correctly, iron dust can keep sorcerers subdued for prolonged lengths of time by trapping them in a kind of drugged limbo. In Merlin's case…"

Another broken rib. Gaius swallowed. "...In Merlin's case, I think they used a very crude method to get it into his bloodstream. In its essence, the procedure is supposed to be similar to a bloodletting. A vein is opened up, blood is drained, collected, mixed with iron dust, and poured or pumped back into the wound. The veins can be left open for days, with iron constantly circulating. It is supposed to be a very sterile, clean procedure. There used to be specialists…"

He could still remember the smell of the blood, the cries of sorcerers as their veins were invaded and abused. Gaius shook his head to clear it of the memories. "But the days of the Purge are over, and I suspect that Merlin's treatment was performed by nothing more than a few prison guards operating under vague verbal instructions." He pointed to the jagged edges of the wound. "You see the serration? It took them a few tries to open a vein, and they did not know how to keep it open once they got one. They just opened a different place each time, or reopened the scabs in order to administer additional dust."

Gwen was staring at him with her mouth open slightly. He sighed.

"I really think I should stop."

"No, I'm sorry. I need to know, I do."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Gwen was looking at him with wide, pleading eyes, so he closed it and grit his teeth.

"The effects are stronger the longer the dust is kept in his system. There is no way of knowing how long that has been, before you ask me."

Two more broken ribs.

"But it didn't spread that far," Gwen said. It was as if Gaius had read her mind, "I mean, I could see where the iron was, and it didn't even reach his shoulder, so it couldn't have been that long."

Gaius shook his head. "It doesn't work like that."

"What do you _mean, _it doesn't work like that?" She asked, "How does it work?"

"Like I said, they reopened the vein multiple times. There's no way of knowing how often the procedure was administered. The grey in his veins was just build-up from different sessions."

Gwen looked horrified.

"Then what did we…?"

"What we just did…" he motioned towards the table, still wet with watered-down pus and grey-orange petals, "was clean the wound, that is all. The calendula draws the built-up iron out of the surrounding tissue, and the honey staves off further infection, but Merlin is going to need to work the rest out of his system on his own."

"And how long will that take?"

"Everything depends on how much he was given." It was vicious loop of _I-don't-know_'s.

"And we don't know that." Gwen said.

"No."

"And there's no way to figure that out."

"Exactly."

Gwen huffed. Gaius moved to check Merlin's other side.

"You wanted me to be honest?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes."

Gaius took another breath. He might as well put everything out on the table.

"His fever…" he started, "is abnormal for the procedure, and that is not the only thing I am worried about."

Gwen mentally prepared herself as Gaius began to explain.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! The chapters after this one should hopefully bring some angry knights and a guilty Arthur into the picture, so look forward to that! I'm ready to hear everybody's side.**

**For now, enjoy another Gwen and Gaius chapter, with a bit of another character thrown in.**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

Gaius took another breath. He might as well put everything out on the table.

"His fever…" he started, "is abnormal for the procedure, and that is not the only thing I am worried about."

Gwen mentally prepared herself as Gaius began to explain.

* * *

"His fever is abnormal for the procedure. It is the reason I can't estimate the amount of time. The amount of paste we needed before the wound began to bleed normally suggests a startlingly large amount of dust in his system, as does the fact that he was in so much obvious pain. But the shouting? That isn't consistent with iron dust at all."

"Then what _was _the shouting?"

Gaius's brows crinkled. "I believe it was a result of the fever." He shifted uncomfortably. "This is the part where I am honest."

Gwen waited patiently.

"The bruising... wherever he was being held, he was beaten," Gaius said quietly, "Probably from the day he was imprisoned until very recently."

Gwen nodded, urging him on. Gaius motioned towards the scarring around his wrists. "He was strapped down," Gaius continued, "If he was released, it was not often, and probably only for a few minutes at a time in order to change his position or to move him to a room with different instruments. That explains the atrophy, and-" He moved his hand in the direction of Merlin's groin, "I think you can guess."

Gwen nodded. He had been left strapped down for hours, forced to wet himself time and time again, unable to escape his own filth as his body betrayed him. She had figured out that much on her own, judging by the smell.

"The fever is probably caused by the shoddy job the guards did with the dust, which lead to an infection in his blood. That is what I am the most worried about, which is why we cleaned the wound before anything else."

Gwen nearly dropped the bandages she was holding. She was just completing the wrapping of the very wound, and she looked at it in an even more sinister light than before.

"His fever is very high, and although it should start going down, I think it was the combination of the pain from his wound and the fever that caused the shouting. It is very likely the things he said were things he has shouted before, and were triggered when his delirium met an action that reminded him of those times. In this case, his imprisonment."

She had already assumed as much, but had hoped for something else.

"I'm afraid that is all I can really tell you. I don't know what the words mean, nor who Merlin thought he was talking to, but you were not at fault for any of them, Guinevere."

Gwen didn't respond. She _knew_ that. Didn't he know she knew that? It didn't make a difference whether she was the one Merlin _thought_ he was talking to. The point was that he had been pushed to say such things in the first place.

Her mind was busy running through scenarios that would explain what Merlin had meant when he had yelled.

The phrases "I don't know anything," and "I didn't do anything," were easy. Everybody knew that Arthur had imprisoned (and killed, but evidently not) Merlin because he was suspected of knowing and carrying out Morgana and Morgause's plans. He was shouting his innocence at the people who were hurting him in an attempt to get them to stop, and in this case, it had been Gwen and Gaius.

"You said you stop," and "You said you would come back," on the other hand, weren't so easy, and Gwen didn't like where her mind was going.

"I think..I think all we can do now is let him rest." Gaius said, pulling Gwen from her thoughts, and she abruptly realized she had gotten to the end of the bandages, that Merlin's limbs and torso were now wrapped and covered securely, his broken fingers set.

"Oh…" she breathed.

"We must get him into an actual bed. This table can't be doing much good for his ribs or breathing."

Gwen glanced at the cot on the far side of the room, then at Merlin, unconscious, and spoke the very words Gaius had been wondering as well:

"How are we going to get him there?"

* * *

In the end, they decided the only safe way to move Merlin was to get outside help. The only problem was _finding_ that help. Gaius didn't think he had the energy to deal with the heartbreak of Percival and Gwaine just yet, and Elyan was gone on a patrol for the next week, which left Leon.

"He's the head of defense," Gaius protested. "He probably already knows about Merlin."

Gwen wouldn't hear any of it. "Leon is Merlin's friend. He wouldn't have stood by and allowed these things to happen if he knew about them."

"In that case, he would be just as heartbroken as Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine, and we might as well call them all in."

Which was how it was decided that they _would _call all three, and give them the news all at once.

Neither of them brought up the fact that Arthur had been Merlin's friend, too. Before all of this.

Gwen left the physician chambers soon after to fetch the men. As she turned back one last time in the doorway, she caught a glimpse of Gaius dragging a stool over to Merlin's side and sitting down, grasping one of his hands.

She nearly ran into another guard as she left the room.

"Oh!" she stopped in the dark hall, the guard looking just as startled.

"Sorry," he said quietly, not meeting her eye. It was the same guard that had stopped her in the halls hours ago, when Arthur had run by with a strange bundle in his arms. A bundle Gwen now knew had been Merlin.

His eyes flitted towards the door.

"Can I help you with anything?" Gwen asked. The guard shook his head.

"No, no. I just...Is Merlin in there?"

A flag went up in Gwen's mind. "Why do you want to know? Merlin is dead." The words felt bitter on her own tongue, but she couldn't have a guard coming and dragging Merlin back to wherever it was he had come from.

The guard smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I know he isn't. I just needed to see him."

Gwen wasn't convinced. "He is not in there."

"Look, I'm not going to do anything. I just came to see if he was alright." The guard shifted. "...Is he? Is he alright?"

Gwen didn't answer the question. "Who _are_ you?"

He shifted again. "Owain." He said, and then, "Can… can you do me a favor? Can you _not_ tell him I came? I don't think he would appreciate my visit..."

Gwen gave him a long look, and for once he caught her eyes.

"...He's not okay, is he?"

Gwen didn't respond. It was enough.

"Oh… Oh _God," _he hissed, and he whirled to punch the wall behind him. "_Dammit!" _He clutched his bruised knuckles.

"I'm sorry. I'm...I'm so sorry. I need- I need to go," he stuttered. He twisted and sprinted down the hallway, his shoulders hunched.

"Wait-!" Gwen shouted, but he was already gone.

She debated going back inside to telling Gaius what had just happened. But then she remembered Merlin still lying on the table, and Gaius taking his hand, and she couldn't return without help.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! I'm sorry I didn't update last week -this month is hectic. But here's a pretty long chapter to make up for it!**

**I would also like to thank everybody who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. I know I haven't been responding to reviews, but please know that I read every single one and would reply to every single one of you if I had the time. You make my day and keep me wanting to write this.**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

"Wait-!" Gwen shouted, but he was already gone.

She debated going back inside to tell Gaius what had just happened. But then she remembered Merlin still lying on the table, and Gaius taking his hand, and she couldn't return without help.

* * *

It took her a matter of minutes to find Gwaine, and by extension, Percival. They were sitting in the corridor outside of the hall that lead to Gaius's chamber. They were still dressed in maille, so Gwen would have thought they had just gotten back from some kind of outing...but she knew better. Arthur had banned the pair from patrol work until they agreed to take down the mourning cloth in and around Gaius's chambers.

They had so much free time now, and Gwen wasn't entirely sure how Percival was filling it. She knew how Gwaine was filling it, however.

Gwaine was drinking. Drinking away his loss, his pain, his anger. If he had been bordering on self-destructive before, he had passed that boundary the moment he had lost Merlin and his right to go on patrol. Gwen didn't know how many nights she had helped Percival drag an unconscious Gwaine to Gaius, or how many times another pair of knights would drag him in for Gwen and Gaius to treat.

"Sir Percival?"

Percival sat on one of the window frames, looking helplessly from side to side as Gwaine lay on the floor below him. His armor was dented. As Gwen neared them, she could smell the alcohol on Gwaine's skin.

The knight looked up, his eyebrows raised in answer and maybe a little embarrassment. Gwen knelt in front of them.

"How much?" she asked, glancing at Gwaine. He was hiccuping and his head was lolling back.

"Does it matter?" Percival asked from his window perch. Gwen sighed and knelt.

"Of all times..." she muttered, "Gwaine! Snap out of it!"

Percival knelt before her. "Is there something wrong?"

"I'll tell you once we find Sir Leon," she said, slapping Gwaine's cheeks lightly. The knight blinked his eyes open slowly, giving Gwen a lazy smile.

"Hiya, Guinevere."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "C'mon, get up. It's important."

Percival helped Gwaine up, who was swaying on his feet.

"Why d-we gotta find 'im?" Gwaine slurred, revealing he had heard at least a part of the earlier conversation, "Sir Le'n."

"I don't want to explain now, just help me."

They found Leon in the armory, practicing footwork. When he saw the three of them enter, he stopped and sheathed his sword.

"What can I help you with?"

"We don't know," Gwaine said a bit more clearly. Apparently the walk had helped sober him a little, "Ms. Guinevere here won't tell us."

"Fine," she snapped, for a moment forgetting the fading sorcerer in Gaius's chambers in lieu of being annoyed with Gwaine, "You are all needed in Gaius's chambers."

Leon's face paled. "What for?"

"It's...hard to explain. One of his patients…" she trailed off, remembering why she was there, and her eyes started watering, "He just...needs your help. Please."

Gwaine and Percival looked slightly concerned, but Leon remained stone-faced as he stepped forward.

"Then we shall go."

* * *

It seemed Gwen couldn't lead the men fast enough to Gaius's chambers. She padded down the hallway with her dress billowing about her legs, her dark hair snapping behind her shoulders.

"Couldya' please speed it up a little, missy? We can't keep up!" Shouted Gwaine in his usual sarcasm as they panted down the hall. Gwen didn't respond. Her mind was focused on one thing: Getting Merlin the help he so desperately needed.

She could tell the knights were more than a little confused by Gwen's reaction in the armory and her urgency to get to the physician, but she found she didn't care at the moment.

As the dark hall came into view, Gwen put on an extra burst of speed, the knights following her. Moving so fast, they were, that when she stopped right in front of the door, they ran into one another.

"Sorry!" She said, "I just... I just think it would be a good idea to be warned first."

Again, Percival and Gwaine looked rather concerned and worried, and Leon looked straight ahead.

"...Warned first?" Gwaine stole a glance at the door, his face growing serious. "Guinevere, what's really goin' on?"

Gwen's shoulders shook. She clasped her hands in front of her. "It's... well, it's… he isn't- I mean, he was brought up a few hours ago, but we need- or _he_ needs, I suppose- to be moved. And...I'm not...I thought I was crazy, but I swear, I'm n-"

"Guinevere?" Gwaine cut her rambling off, "Who is it?"

Tears once again welled up in her eyes and she opened her mouth a few times in order to say something, but no sound came out. Finally, she managed to get out just one word:

"It's…"

"...Merlin?"

Gwen's eyes widened as she heard another voice finish her sentence. She looked to see that Percival and Gwaine were giving Leon an odd look as he stood off to the side, a hand pressed to the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the floor.

"Is it Merlin, Guinevere?"

"Merlin?" Gwaine seemed to think Leon had gone off the deep end, but Leon just lifted his eyes to Gwen and said softly,

"Is it?"

Gwen once again found it hard to find words. Was Gaius right? He _was _the head knight...had he stood idly by as his friend was hurt- beaten in the dungeons by the very men he lead?

"Guinevere, please. Tell me! _Is. It. Merlin."_

"Come now, Leon-" Gwaine started, but Gwen cut him off.

"How do you know that," her voice was dangerously low.

Leon didn't make eye contact. "I-" he didn't know where to go, how to explain himself.

_"How do you know that?"_ Gwen shrieked, taking a step towards him with her fists clenched, _"tell me!"_

"I was under orders! I never-"

"You were _under orders?_"

"I never touched him! I-I was just the messenger-"

"But _you knew_? You knew and you just _let it happen?!"_

At this point, Gwaine and Percival had heard enough. "What is going on?!" Gwaine demanded at the same time as Percival's shout of "Can _someone_ explain?"

Leon and Gwen stopped shouting, although she was still uncomfortably close to him. Her glare never left his face as she spoke.

"...Do you even _know_ what they've done? Do you know what _you_ have done?"

Leon hung his head.

"Guinevere, what are you speaking of?" Gwaine asked, shifting his eyes between the two of them.

"Leon knew, but he didn't touch him!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, "because that makes everything okay! He was _only the messenger! _He wasn't responsible!" She dropped her hands and her voice lowered. "Do you want to see what you _weren't a part of_, Leon?"

She took a step backwards and pressed Gaius's door open, revealing the occupant.

"See for yourself."

* * *

Gwen watched the knights' faces as realization came to them.

He was on the table, his skin pale against the dark wood. His eyes were closed above his hollow cheeks. Sweat beaded across his brow as his chest moved up and down in feverish heaves beneath the blood-stained bandages wrapped tightly around his chest.

Leon's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

Gwaine and Percival looked confused -_Merlin was dead, Merlin was dead-_ before Gwen's angry words slid into place, and they understood.

"...Merlin?" Percival whispered. Merlin didn't wake, only shifted slightly before letting out a pained cry and falling still again. The sheet slid down to his waist, revealing more infection-stained bandages and his taut, hollowed stomach.

Leon blanched, his lips moving silently.

Gwaine whirled to look at him, fury in his eyes. The body on the table resembled more of a beaten child than the servant, but the dark hair and prominent (_too prominent- emaciated) _cheekbones were unmistakable.

"_You_ did this?"

Leon shook his head, his hands going up. "I-I didn't-"

"You _knew about this?"_

Leon backed up. "I swear, I didn't know that it had gone this far-" but he stopped. Because he had heard the screams and the pleas. He had seen fleeting glimpses of that bloody face as the guards dragged him down the hall, unconscious or broken. He had known, distantly, what was being done, but he hadn't let himself think about it.

And now he was staring at the fruition of his ignorance.

Merlin was thinner now than when Leon had seen him last, but when had that been? The second week? The third? He knew Arthur had ordered to cut back his rations, but he had just assumed Merlin would be able to deal with it. The boy was already so skinny, he had reasoned that he probably didn't need much to eat in the first place.

But his bones were sticking out from his skin, even through the layers of bandages. And the bandages covered everything - his arms, his chest -they spread below the sheet and he knew they went down his legs and feet.

"_But you knew it was happening?" _Gwaine repeated.

"I didn't know _this_ was happening!" Leon exclaimed, fumbling an excuse.

"I thought he was _dead!_"

"Nobody could know-"

"Godammit, _I mourned him!"_

"It needed to be done, it needed to-"

"In what world," Gwaine motioned towards Merlin's destroyed body, "Did this _ever_ need to be done?"

Leon once again fell silent.

"I asked you a question." Gwaine took a step forward and Leon's back hit a bookcase, his hands falling to his sides.

"I was under orders…" Leon said quietly, but even he knew it was a flimsy excuse -he just wasn't prepared for the blow that snapped his head to the side.

"Since when are orders more important than _honour_!" Gwaine exclaimed, dealing another blow. Leon didn't move to protect himself. He fell to the ground and covered his head with his arms to shield himself from the blows.

Gwaine delivered a kick to his ribs. "He was your friend! He trusted you!" Another blow, "You _bastard!"_ but the next blow didn't come. Leon opened his eyes.

Percival was holding Gwaine back as he attempted to throw himself at Leon. Spittle flew from his lips.

"Let go of me!" Gwaine shouted, jerking, "He hurt _Merlin-"_

"This is not going to fix anything, Gwaine!" Percival shouted over the din, "You'll kill him!"

"_He fucking deserves it!"_

"Gwaine, stop!" Gwen skidded into the melee, putting herself between Leon and Gwaine. "This won't solve anything!"

Gwaine glared at Leon, but his movements slowed until he hung dejectedly in Percival's grip.

"Are you done?" Percival asked, and Gwaine nodded. Percival released him, and he moved to Merlin's side, taking a bandaged hand.

"What...what happened to him?"

"He was tortured."

Everyone looked up as the door to Merlin's room creaked and Gaius emerged holding a worn blanket.

"I was going to break the news gently, but it seems we're passed that now." He glanced at Leon. "I had hoped for more from you."

The knight hung his head and looked away. Gaius smoothed the blanket over the cot on the far side of the room.

"Sir Percival? Gwaine? Would you mind..?" He motioned vaguely towards Merlin, but the knights understood. Gwaine pulled the sheet up so that it once again covered Merlin's torso. Merlin flinched, still unconscious. Percival slid his hands under Merlin's shoulders and knees, and with Gwaine helping to support his head, they carried Merlin's weightless body to the cot that Gaius had prepared.

"Lords, Gaius, has he eaten anything?" Gwaine asked as they settled his feverish head against a pillow. Gaius pressed a hand to his flushed forehead and frowned.

"I bet you could ask Leon," Gwen muttered, "I bet he knows."

All eyes turned to the blond knight still kneeling on the floor.

"Has he eaten?" Gwaine asked, his voice carefully even.

"Well-" Leon didn't want to explain, not now, surrounded by the people he had betrayed, "Well... Arthur cut back his rations."

Gaius responded, "It is common practice to decrease a sorcerer's rations during imprisonment, but Merlin's body has lost weight far faster than it should have if he was on prisoner rations. There is something you are hiding."

Leon shifted. "I swear I didn't think it was going to go this far."

Gwaine's fists were clenched again.

"You didn't think _what_ was going to go this far?"

"He just wasn't responding to anything else, and Owaine kept coming in to report that the methods were still not working- and oh _God_..."

"What. Did. You. Do."

"I didn't do anything. I never touched him. I just delivered the orders sometimes- oh my _God_, I delivered the _orders_..." The depths to which Leon had played his role was finally dawning on him, but it was too little, too late. The damage had already been done. "The...the first week. Morgana. Morgana was coming and we needed information fast. We thought Merlin had it... Arthur told me to report to the guards, tell them that they should accelerate the usual interrogation timeline-"

"_Please tell the guards to move on to the next step of the interrogation. I want something out of the sorcerer before she arrives."_

"_Yes, sire." Leon said, shuffling away._

"-and then... The second week, the head of the guards- Owaine- came to say that the methods were not working." Once he started, everything came spilling out. "Arthur accused him… he accused him of sympathizing with a sorcerer, but Owain just thought that maybe we were wrong, that maybe he _didn't _know anything, but Arthur would not have that. I did not even try to convince him otherwise... Oh, but what if I had? What if I had helped Owain? Then maybe…" he paused, remembered his place, backtracked. "...But Arthur would not have that. He said… He said to _get creative, _and..._._"

Leon shuddered, took a glance at Merlin's shallow breathing and the bandages that covered his torn, bruised flesh.

"...And then that was not working," Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but he fought them. He had not cried in years, he was not going to cry now, over a single manservant. Even if that manservant had been tortured for information he never knew, "So his rations were cut. And Owain tried to protest again, but it did not work…"

Over the course of the speech, Leon's voice became less and less of the head knight they knew, and more and more the rambling tone of guilt. It seemed that everybody in the room noticed but Leon himself, who was starting to relive all of the conversations he had heard and had in the last five weeks.

"_Is he secure? Sir Leon," Arthur asked as they both watched "Merlin" burn. Leon turned to look at the king._

"_You were down with him only hours ago, sire. You fastened the cuffs yourself."_

_Arthur turned his gaze back to the flames. "I just need to be certain. You are to tell no one of this, do you understand? Morgana and Morgause cannot see through our charade before we learn what he knows."_

"_Yes, sire."_

He had been so mindless. He had been Arthur's little pet.

"_I just...I've been down there so much," Owain said one night after emerging from the dungeons, blood still staining his gloves. He picked at a fleck of it as he spoke, "And I don't know, maybe he's casting a spell on me, or something of the sort, but I don't think so. I just don't think he knows what I'm asking him. I don't think he's done the things we think he has."_

"_He is a sorcerer, Sir Owain. There is no room for goodness or sympathy."_

"_I know, I know," He looked at his hands again. "But… he's so small, Sir Leon. And he's not even trying to stay silent anymore. He talks all the time. He's not being stubborn, he just isn't giving us the information we want."_

"_It's a good tactic."_

"_I don't think it is. A tactic, I mean."_

_Leon looked at Owain seriously. "What you speak is treason."_

_Owain looked down. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to do this anymore. I'm not sure I can."_

"_You can, and you will."_

"_He talks so much, though."_

"_Hasn't he always?" _

_Owain looked at him. "Exactly."_

Leon realized he was still rambling. "I think I knew. I knew something was not right, but I did not know what. I just followed what I had always been taught."

It was easier that way. To not think, to just follow.

"And then Morgana delayed her attack, and we had more time, and Sir Owain began to voice his doubts, and I just spit Arthur's words at him, and-" An odd look crossed his face. "and...Gaius? How did Merlin get up here?"

He suddenly realized that he had stood to move right next to Merlin's bed, and everybody was watching him. Gwaine's fists were no longer clenched at his sides. Gwen had her hands over her mouth. Percival and Gaius shared nearly identical concerned faces.

"I am sorry. I know it is not enough, but… I am." He directed his apology at Merlin's pale face.

There was a moment of silence. Nobody wanted to break the moment, to interrupt Leon as he came to full realization and faced his regret. But then Gwaine spoke.

"How _did_ Merlin get up here, Gaius?"

"Arthur carried him in this morning," Gaius said, then glanced at the darkened window, "Or perhaps it was yesterday morning, by now."

""But...why? What changed his mind?"

"I was hoping Leon could tell us that," Gaius said, and all heads once again swiveled to look at Leon. Leon just looked lost.

"I assure you, I do not know. I'm sorry, but he didn't tell me. I can't tell you."

"No, but _I _can." A low voice said, and everyone turned, startled to see the king himself standing in the doorway before all Hell broke loose.


	10. Chapter 10

**Oh my goodness, I re-wrote this chapter five or six times. It was daunting, for some reason. I would write it, hate it, then delete the entire thing, only to write something else I didn't like. I am sorry it has taken me so long to update. I must have written the equivalence of 35 pages, but I kept deleting them. I still might edit this one in the future, but I have gone through this scene so many times I can't look at it objectively anymore, and probably won't be able to for a while. But don't fear! I already have four pages of the next chapter written.**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previousy...**

"But...why? What changed his mind?"

"I was hoping Leon could tell us that," Gaius said, and all heads once again swiveled to look at Leon. Leon just looked lost.

"I assure you, I do not know. I'm sorry, but he didn't tell me. I can't tell you."

"No, but _I _can." A low voice said, and everyone turned, startled to see the king himself standing in the doorway before all Hell broke loose.

* * *

"Arthur-!" Leon began, but was cut off by Gwaine as he shoved Leon to the side, drawing his sword from its sheathe. Arthur backtracked, pulling his own blade in a panic. The ringing sound of the blades was loud enough to shatter the tension of the room, and Percival, Leon, and Gwen were suddenly in motion.

And then there was _noise _and _color- the tangible thrum of righteous anger__-_ as five people meshed into a single, roaring shape of vengeful guilt.

"You foul, heartless-!"

"Get off me!"

"How could you-?"

"I don't want to hear-!"

_"Please!"_

And if they looked back, nobody would know what had happened first. They wouldn't know which hand bruised or which blade cut. They wouldn't recall which words they shouted or whose blood stained. Because in the end they would stand in a panting circle, eyeing one another with animal eyes.

There was blood trickling from Gwaine's split lip, but Arthur had a series of shallow slashes rapidly growing across his forehead and cheek. Percival had drawn his blade, but it was not being used. Instead, the abrasions on his knuckles mirrored the abrasions on Arthur's arms and jawbone. Gwen's dress was ripped and revealed a long scrape up her leg. Her corset was as loose as her now-unplaited hair, but she had skin under her fingernails and bruises that matched Percival's. Leon stood slightly ahead of Arthur, as if he was caught between protecting him and attacking him, his sword held in neither an offensive or defensive position.

Their voices died away to grunts and hisses.

A sword clattered to the floor.

Arthur fell to his knees in the middle of the circle, his arms coming up to ward off the blows.

And then they heard it.

"-top! Stop! Can you not see that you are upsetting him?! Please, for the love of God, stop this-!"

Gaius was shouting, and he must have been for a long while. His voice was the high strain of desperation as he stood beside Merlin's cot, his hands busy even while he was shouting red-faced at the others.

Merlin was seizing.

Gaius was holding Merlin's head steady, but his body continued to buck against an unseen force, his eyeballs rolling in their sockets. Only the whites were visible between his half-lids. His blue lips were parted slightly and hiccuping, animal-like mewls were escaping through them as his throat worked beneath the now brightly-glowing collar.

_The collar._

Everyone was frozen. Arthur was supporting himself with his arms as he heaved into the floor, his mouth open as he took in the looming figures of the people who used to be his friends. His eyes slid towards Merlin, and his racing heart was suddenly cracking against his ribcage as he watched him writhe in pain.

The collar blocked magic, and unconscious though he was, Merlin was trying to cast.

And it was hurting him.

"What do we do?" Arthur gasped.

And Gwaine nearly sliced his neck, had Percival not caught his arm. As it was, Arthur was given another shallow slash to add to his collection.

"_You_ don't do anything," he spit. Arthur's eyes widened only a fraction of an inch before acceptance filled his eyes, and he sunk back as the rest of the group moved to gather around Merlin.

"We need to get this collar _off of him," _Gwen's voice was thick with years, "Please- tell me you know how to, Gaius? You said you had no intention of-"

Merlin convulsed again, and his hands weakly moved towards the collar. His fingers brushed Gwen's and she pulled back, gasping as they bumped against the collar as well. The metal was jolting-cold to her skin, and Gwen was not magic at all.

"_Gaius-_" Gwen begged, "What is happening?"

Gaius opened his mouth, but Gwaine had already jumped to his own conclusions.

"Wait-!" Gaius exclaimed as the furious knight whirled on Arthur.

"This is _your _doing!" He shouted, pulling his sword, "_You _put that thing on him!"

Merlin's seizing increased, his mewls turning into hoarse, unintelligible phrases.

Gwaine raised his sword higher. Arthur couldn't move.

Merlin gasped out loud as his eyes opened. The entire room could see the molten gold shimmering around his pupils as his magic fought the collar.

_"Stop!__"_ Gaius released Merlin as Gwaine turned to look at him with his sword still poised.

"_What?" _He spit, "If the collar's hurting him, then it's _his _fault." He leveled his sword at Arthur.

"And he might be the only one who can take it off! Please, Sir Gwaine, put the sword down!"

Gwaine remained where he was. "You didn't bother to stop it earlier," he growled, jerking his head towards Arthur's wounds, "You didn't _mind_ us doing it earlier."

Gaius frowned. "If you think I did not attempt to stop you, then you are greatly mistaken," his voice dropped dangerously low, " and I will not ask again. Put. Your. Sword. Down."

Gwaine stayed where he was and adjusted his grip. Merlin's wines were abruptly cut off as he seemed to choke on the very air he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut again. A few tears tracked their way down his face.

"_Gaius!__"_ Leon shouted, joining Gwen and Percival as they attempted to keep Merlin still, "Gaius, he isn't breathing!"

"Do you want to kill Merlin or not? Drop the sword, Gwaine!"

"How will dropping my sword help him_ n-?"_

_"Because you're killing him! Drop your sword!"_

"_Gaius-?!_" Gwen's voice was terrified, and Gwaine looked at her, scared of what he might see.

Time seemed to slow down as he suddenly became impossibly aware of what was going on around him.

He saw Merlin, whose face was bright red as his body fought for oxygen, lying on the cot as his friends tried to help him. He saw Gaius, with anger and determination in his eyes, still telling him to drop his sword . And finally he saw Arthur, who was still kneeling before him, helpless.

"Gwaine, do as he says," the king whispered, and for some reason it was the loudest thing in the room, "_Please."_

It was the please that did it. Gwaine's eyes widened as he realized that Arthur was crying, truly crying, his hands held trembling up in surrender. "He can't die like this."

_He can't die like this._

Gwaine dropped his sword.

Merlin's body instantly relaxed. His eyes closed. A few tears rolled down the side of his face.

The muttering stopped.

"Merlin?" Gwen whispered, panicked. "_Merlin-_"

Gaius shoved her out of the way and pressed his fingers to the sorcerer's neck. He closed his eyes. "He's breathing."

Everyone released the air they had been holding. He was breathing. He was alive.

Gaius removed his hand to inspect the place where the collar touched. He shook his head when he saw the puckered blistering, but there was nothing he could do. Not while the collar was still on. He glanced at Gwaine's sword, still lying on the ground, and scowled.

"You are not allowed to touch that, do you understand?" he asked, and Gwaine's face bloomed red with shame.

"I understand. But," Gwaine looked from his sword to Merlin, confusion in his eyes, "he doesn't like my sword?"

Gaius opened his mouth, but Arthur beat him to it. "He... He doesn't like your sword when it's pointed at me."

Everyone turned towards Arthur, their faces showing their disgust. Everyone, that is, except Gaius, who just raised his eyebrows.

"What kind of a selfish man do you think you are," Gwen said, shaking her head, wrinkling her nose, "that you believe _you_ have anything to do with that reaction? Besides putting him in that collar."

The king didn't respond. He knew how it sounded. Gaius, on the other hand, was slowly putting pieces together.

"Arthur, what makes you think that?" The physician's voice was cautious.

Arthur looked nervously at Gwen and Gwaine, but kept his mouth shut.

"I'll ask you again, Arthur. _What makes you think that?" _This time he was less calm.

"I- you know why, Gaius."

"I am not so sure I do, sire."

"Of course you do. How could you not?"

Gaius's face didn't change. Arthur scrabbled for words. "His… well, his magic."

"And what of his magic?" The physician narrowed his eyes, "You know more than that, don't you?"

There was a long pause. Arthur looked nervously at the occupants of the room before answering.

"... Yes."

Gaius crossed his arms. "And what is it that you know?"

Arthur clenched his jaw. "Please don't make me say it."

"I need to hear you say it. In front of all of these people, tell me. Why do you believe Merlin doesn't like the sword pointed at _you__?_"

The king winced. Gaius was unimpressed.

"Because of his.. " Arthur trailed off.

"I am waiting."

"...but I don't understand. Why would he do that?"

"Why would he do _what?__"_ Gwaine asked, but they both ignored him.

"If you want to know, he is completely unaware of what he is doing right now, sire. Heaven knows this is not a _conscious _choice, after what you've done to him. So I'll ask you again, why do you think his reaction was towards _you__?_ You are not wrong in that assumption."

"What do you mean, he isn't wrong in that assumption?!" Gwaine exclaimed, but Percival shushed him. Arthur's heart skipped a beat. Was that how it worked? Had he just witnessed it? He blinked. There was something else bothering him. Arthur glanced at his friends, then at Gaius.

"They don't know?" he asked.

Gaius nodded stiffly. "And neither should you."

But Arthur was still looking away, staring blankly as he tried to understand what was going on.

"Please," Gaius said, "Do not get off course."

"But they_ don't know__?_ They never knew about any of it?"

"Any of _what?_" Gwaine piped in. Gaius gave him a warning look. He quieted.

"Please, Arthur, continue."

"No... No! Wait a moment!" Arthur cried, focusing on the group standing around Merlin's cot, "You don't know about _any_ of what he's done, and you're still standing there, protecting him? _Why?_ Why would you do that?"

"What are you talking about? What don't we know?" This time it was Gwen who spoke out, coming to stand beside Gwaine.

"They did not need to know," Gaius grit out, giving Arthur a long, angry look. "They did not care about his magic. They never needed to know what he had used it for, or why, or to what end. They cared for _him, _for _Merlin._"

"But…" Arthur looked at them, "but…"

"For God's sake, someone spit it out! What don't we know?" Gwaine finally burst, and Arthur whipped to face them.

"Destiny! You didn't know about the destiny! _His- Our-_ destiny! You don't know about what he's done for me, for all of us! You don't know that he's _still _trying to protect me, even when he's unconscious-" He broke off and looked at Gaius, at Merlin, at Merlin's friends, standing protectively by his side, vengeance and grief written into their bodies. "Why don't you know? Why didn't you _need_ to know?"

"Destiny?" Gwen asked, confused.

"He's protecting _you_?" Gwaine asked.

_Merlin is a good man. He does not deserve to die. _

_You son of a bitch! He was your friend!_

_You can at least remember the date_.

Arthur winced as his memory came to mock him. "Yes, his destiny. And yes, he is, but I don't think… I don't think it's his decision-"

"Damn right, it's not his decision," Gwaine muttered.

"Destiny." Percival scoffed, adjusting the sheet that had fallen. He waited until Merlin shuddered and then relaxed before he looked at Arthur. "What does it matter, mate?"

Arthur stared. "What does it _matter?__"_ -Did they not understand?- "How could it _not_ matter?"

Percival shrugged. "What did it do?"

Arthur spluttered. "It- It made sure we were safe! It protected us - saved our lives! It kept us out of harm's way-"

"You make it sound like destiny is its own being," Percival said, "but that just sounds like Merlin to me."

"You didn't know he'd done any of those things."

"I knew him well enough."

"But he had magic."

"Yes."

That was it. Arthur found himself staring once again. Was it that simple? They didn't know because they didn't _care_? Because it didn't matter?

_A good man._

_A friend._

_I knew him well enough._

Guilt clawed its way up Arthur's limbs. After he had learned about the sacrifices Merlin had made, he had handled the guilt by telling himself his actions had been reasonable for the time. He hadn't _known__,_ therefore interrogation had been a rational next step. Magic was supposed to be evil. If he _had _known, then he wouldn't have done the things he did. He convinced himself that everybody would have _certainly _reacted the same way he had, had they been as uninformed as he was. He thought they knew.

But they hadn't.

Destiny. It seemed so trivial, now that he had said it out loud and had heard everybody repeat it back to him. It shouldn't have mattered, ever, whether Merlin had a destiny or not; whether he had been secretly rescuing Arthur or simply living his life quietly. Merlin being Merlin, magic or no magic, should have mattered. Yet Arthur had violated his friend because he _didn't have enough proof not to_. And he'd only stopped when he'd gathered enough evidence to do so. Wasn't that why he had released him? Because he had had enough evidence to _not_ hold him anymore? What kind of twisted reciprocal of justice had he been holding?

"You never needed proof..." he whispered, seemingly forgetting there were others in the room.

"How do you know about his destiny?" Gaius asked, his eyes narrowed, "Why did you release him now?"

"You never...God, I'm a _fool,_" he still seemed unaware of the people around him.

"Arthur," Gwaine's tone was threatening.

Arthur blinked, apparently noticing them for the first time. "Why did I need proof?" he asked, tears blurring his vision. He was still kneeling on the floor, blood dripping from his wounds, "Why didn't I listen?"

Nobody in the room answered. He was pitiful, like this, but Merlin's labored breathing was still filling the room with a grotesque soundtrack, still fueling their silence. Arthur deserved to suffer this time.

Arthur found no warmth in the eyes of the people before him, only cold hatred. He looked back to the floor. Was this how Merlin had felt, kneeling before the guards he used to call friends as they hurt him? Was this how he had felt for the last five _weeks?_ It must have been worse. Merlin had done no wrong and even the _guards _had known it. Was it better to be regarded with guilt or hatred while you were beaten?

Someone cleared their throat. Percival took a step forward.

"We're waiting," he said.

Arthur swallowed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. No response. He cleared his throat. If he was going to get through this, he needed to stay calm. "I was... Well, I don't exactly want to explain-"

"Tell us."

Arthur grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck.

"The... Uh, well- well nothing was... I was trying to- to find some other way to..." He made a vague motion towards Merlin.

"No, tell us what you were going to do." Gwaine's muscles were coiled; he was looking for a reason to strike, but holding back. "Tell us what you, protector of our kingdom, wanted to do to an innocent man."

"He wasn't innocent," Arthur protested, and then his eyes widened, "I didn't mean it like that! I meant- I meant he- he had magic. He _did__._" He bit his cheek. "I should have never-"

"Shut up." Gwaine was seething, but by some divine power, nobody had attacked Arthur yet. They all stood with straining fury in every line of their bodies, but Merlin's whimpering tremors kept them from moving forward, "We don't want to hear your excuses."

"Sorry," Arthur said again, more out of reflex. He was met with silence again. "I don't know where to start."

"How about from the _beginning?_"

Arthur paled. He was ashamed of the beginning. "I- I don't think I want to."

Merlin tensed and whimpered as Gwaine took a threatening step forward, "Don't you?"

Arthur swallowed. "Bloodletting," he confessed.

"Bloodletting?" Gwaine growled. Another whimper from Merlin. Gaius intervened.

"That is enough. Arthur, continue."

Arthur looked pale. "It was late, and I was trying to… you know… when it happened."

"We _don't_ know."

He winced. "Things weren't...working. And Morgana was getting closer, and I was desperate, so I thought-"

"You used _bloodletting?_" Gwen demanded.

"No! No, I just thought of it when… when it happened."

"When _what _happened?"

Arthur's lips parted, and it was like he was reliving the experience again as he spoke.

* * *

**You'll get to see Arthur's story next chapter :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Man, this chapter was loooong. I just couldn't seem to find a good place to cut it off. So I'm going to post it rapid-fire as a few separate chapters. A good portion of this is flashback, but let me know if that gets confusing, and I will try different formatting.**

**Warning: Descriptions and details of torture.**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

"You used _bloodletting?_" Gwen demanded.

"No! No, I just thought of it when… when it happened."

"When _what_ happened?"

Arthur's lips parted, and it was like he was reliving the experience again as he spoke.

* * *

_Arthur sat at his desk, attempting to stomach his way through reading the latest weekly report of the sorcerer's interrogation. At the beginning, the reports had been filled with one or two interrogation techniques and then long, hefty chunks of dialogue. The sorcerer had mouthed off and fought like a wild animal, and Arthur had been fascinated to see the true nature of his ex-manservant._

_But now, the reports were shorter, the lists of methods grew longer and more complex as the dialogue grew shorter and less coherent, and Arthur's logical mind was struggling with the tiny part of him that stubbornly refused to be apathetic. It was the same childish part that cringed when he went hunting, or mourned when he went to war. Arthur had long ago learned it was irrational, had learned how to ignore it, but reading the reports somehow caused it to come clawing to the surface once again._

_"Heat applied to sensory point - Spoken: Please don't."_

_"Additional heated instruments applied to critical points - Spoken: Please, I c-can't-"_

_"Process repeated - No verbal response."_

_The report began, and then continued, with lists of actions and reactions. Arthur felt like he was going cross-eyed._

_"No verbal response."_

_"No verbal response."_

_"No verbal response."_

_"Whimpered, No verbal response."_

_Occasionally he would perk up when the pattern changed, but it was always useless dialogue._

_"Spoken: Please stop."_

_"Spoken: It-It h-hurts."_

_"Spoken: L-Let me go."_

_"Spoken: I don't understand."_

_The dialogue was always unnervingly detailed, and sometimes the useless scribe would even include the dialogue that didn't make sense, as if the meaningless syllables somehow mattered to him._

_"Spoken: I'm not- I-I-I-"_

_"Spoken: Puh-ah! Ah! Stuh-op?"_

_"Additional round of iron dust started - tremors have increased ten-fold, consciousness erratic, No verbal response."_

_Arthur felt like he was on the verge of something, as if he was standing in the calm before the first fat drops of rain fell from the sky and soaked him through, but he needed to figure out how to get there. It was obvious from the reports that Merlin was waning, he just needed a final push to make him spill what he knew. Merlin would be telling Arthur all of his plans with Morgana soon, and just in time. Her attack could not be delayed for much longer._

_But what could he do?_

_Looking out the window, Arthur could see the moon spilling its way across the treetops. He sighed. Previously, he hadn't taken a night stroll alone for years, but he had picked up the practice since Merlin's imprisonment. He now needed to be alone to think. The walls of his chambers always seemed to press in on him as he thought up ways to push Merlin over the edge, and that small piece of him wouldn't shut up. He pushed out his chair and stood, sheathing his sword at his hip before venturing into the castle's darkened halls._

_His boots tap-tapped against the cobbled streets as he slowly made his way to the gates. He could only really go into the woods unaccompanied at night, when nobody could stop him and insist that he take a guard or two._

_He sighed as the trees came into view and he entered the near-total darkness of the forest. Here, he could arrange his thoughts logically:_

_If he wanted to be a formidable force against Morgana, he needed all of the information he could get. What was her battle strategy? How large was her army? Exactly how much intel had the sorcerer syphoned off? Merlin knew, Arthur was sure of it. But even weeks into the interrogation, the sorcerer stubbornly refused to give up anything. The only reasonable conclusion, then, was that the approach they were currently using was flawed, and Arthur knew why._

_The problem with the methods so far was that they relied too heavily on pain as an incentive, and Merlin was stronger than anybody had anticipated. Although publically Arthur was blaming the guards for their ineffectiveness, he knew it was actually a matter of pain tolerance... And the sorcerer's was unnaturally high. So he needed to try something else, use a different approach._

_Gaius was no longer speaking to Arthur, so Arthur was forced to try to remember everything he had ever heard Gaius say about magic and magic-users when it came to developing new ways to convince Merlin to speak. He couldn't recall anything about a difference in pain management or resisting torture, but there had always been an awful lot of talk about blood. Magic in the blood; the blood tie between a dragon and its kin; the effect iron had on a sorcerer's magic, and therefore blood flow; it all seemed to be tied together, and Arthur wondered if he could use that information to his advantage._

_He glanced up at the moon and the light shifting through the trees. It was funny how peaceful everything could seem whilst someone's head was in chaos. He stopped walking and leaned against the nearest tree, sinking down to rest his elbows on his knees._

_If a sorcerer's essence seemed to be in their blood, could Merlin be drawing his strength from it? The collar had been partially designed to slow the blood, and it had been extremely effective in subduing him. But the collar only slowed the movement, the circulation. Was there a different approach? One that could help Arthur diminish Merlin's strong will?_

_He stared at the moon for a little longer. The leaves kept brushing through its milky depths, and despite the fact that Arthur couldn't feel the wind where he sat, he knew that the kingdom probably could._

_If he couldn't slow the blood, could he reduce it?_

_The idea struck him very suddenly, and he felt like an idiot for not coming to the conclusion earlier. Gaius didn't support the practice, but bloodletting had been a medical ritual for years. Sure, it was a little messy. If there was less blood in Merlin's system, the effects would be devastating enough to make him speak, either because he would give up or because he would be too dazed and exhausted to be aware of what he was doing. Surely Arthur could find someone willing to perform it on Merlin. Without the vitality, the sorcerer would surely break._

_Arthur smiled. This walk had been most productive._

_He stood slowly, turning the idea around in his mind. He would need to find someone who wouldn't betray his secret. Someone he could trust to see Merlin alive and not tell a soul. Someone who-_

_A twig snapped somewhere to his left. Arthur froze, placing his hand warningly on his hilt._

_"Hello?" He called. He could see movement somewhere further back in the trees._

_"Come out," he said loudly. He didn't expect whatever it was to actually listen to him, but it felt good to at least pretend he had some kind of control. However, another twig snapped, and then another, and Arthur was surprised when a hand reached through the thicket a few feet from him._

_Instinct kicked in, and Arthur was on the other side of the clearing he had found himself in with his sword in his hands before he realized he had moved. He watched as the hand became an arm, and then a shadowed face, and finally a full-sized figure, robed in a long, obscuring cloak._

_Arthur lifted his sword threateningly. "Who are you? Speak!"_

_The figure tilted its head, then raised its hands in a peaceful gesture. Arthur kept his sword in place. Unperturbed, the figure lifted its hood away from its face, revealing the lined face of a man with a shock of grey-blond hair._

_"Arthur Pendragon," the man said. His voice was full of authority, and despite Arthur's royal status and weapon, the king felt that the man had the upper hand in this situation. He breathed._

_"I said, who are you?"_

_The man looked at him with neutral eyes. "We have met before. Do you not remember?"_

_Arthur didn't respond. Indeed, the man seemed a little familiar, but Arthur had been in contact with many strange, cloak-wearing men, and they'd started to blur together._

_"I am Iseldir, Chieftain of the Druids," his face grew solemn, "And I need to speak with you."_

_Immediately, Arthur's sword raised. "I do not consort with Druids," he hissed, "and certainly not a Druidian leader."_

_"No?" Iseldir took a step closer. The leaves rustled as the wind finally reached the clearing, "In that case, let me rephrase: I am going to speak with you, whether you consort with Druids or not."_

_"You will do no such thing."_

_The wind grew louder. Iseldir's hands twitched. "And you believe you have that choice, sire?"_

_There was something in the way that Iseldir said "sire" that made his skin crawl. Arthur shivered._

_"...because you don't. You will come with me."_

_Arthur took a step back. "No," he said, his sword still raised. The Druid matched his steps, remaining just a little too close. Arthur kept speaking, "no, there is nothing to speak about."_

_The wind was more forceful now, whipping leaves around the clearing. The pair needed to raise their voices to be heard over the roar._

_"Not even your manservant?"_

_Arthur scowled. "I already know of my manservant. He is a sorcerer, a traitor like you and your kind!"_

_The man laughed, "and you know what he has done?"_

_That surprised Arthur. He'd never heard of a Druid betraying a fellow magic user. What did Iseldir gain by telling Arthur of Merlin's crimes? Nothing good, certainly._

_"I already know enough."_

_"And Morgana? Do you know of her?"_

_That got Arthur's attention. His sword dipped slightly. Iseldir smirked._

_The wind abruptly ceased._

_"I guess that answers that question."_

_And then Arthur knew no more._


	12. Chapter 12

**So I tried to break it up into chapters, but I couldn't find a good stopping point. So here is a monstrously long chapter!**

**Warning: Descriptions and details of torture.**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

_The wind abruptly ceased._

_"I guess that answers _that _question."_

_And then Arthur knew no more._

* * *

_When he came to, it was still dark. _

_He brought a hand to his head before he remembered what had happened. _

_He snapped up, suddenly fully awake, and glanced about the clearing he was lying in. It was different than when he had blacked out; smaller. Stunted, gnarled trees had pushed themselves out of the dirt around him._

_He was alone._

_Reaching for his sword, he spun in a slow circle as he tried to find something he recognized, then cursed when his hand met empty air. He was lost and weaponless._

_"Iseldir..?" Arthur half-whispered. He did not trust the chieftain, not one bit, but it was either find him or be lost in an unfamiliar forest. _

_Nothing. There was absolutely no noise. The silence was unnatural._

_"Iseldir!" Arthur called, a little louder. What was the point of this? How was this even close to having a conversation about Morgana? It was a trap; it had to be._

_"Sire," the voice was softer than a whisper, and Arthur jumped as Iseldir peered out from between two sickly trees. "Come, there is something you must see."_

_Arthur glared. "Take me back."_

_"Not until the conversation is over."_

_Arthur motioned towards the clearing. "This," he said, more loudly than he had meant, "is not a conversation."_

_In a flash, Iseldir had grabbed Arthur's wrist and pulled him down, into the treeline. "Hush! Do you want to be caught?" He hissed, kneeling beside Arthur._

_"What are you talking about?" Arthur was beyond fed up._

_"These woods are not natural," Iseldir's eyes flicked around them, searching for a threat. "Morgana's spies are everywhere."_

_Arthur laughed. "Like _you_? Like Merlin?! Do you honestly expect me to believe that you are on my side?" He laughed again, even more loudly. "I am not a fool, Druid!"_

_The Druid's hand was over Arthur's mouth in a moment, cutting him off. Arthur's eyes widened as Iseldir's voice dropped, face inches from his own. His eyes filled with fury. "I am not, and never will be, an ally of Morgana's," he hissed, his fingernails making marks in Arthur's cheeks. "But we are _not _on the same side, Arthur Pendragon." His voice was trembling. "And don't you _ever _pretend we are. I am not here to help _you_, do you understand?"_

_Arthur nodded._

"_Good," Iseldir pulled his hand away. "If you ever want to make it home, you will follow me now. In silence," he said, and turned to leave. Arthur scrambled up, pressing a hand to his now-bruised cheek._

_"Good king," the Druid said, glancing over his shoulder as they began to walk._

_Just ten minutes later, Iseldir stopped. "We are close."_

_The woods still looked the same to Arthur. "To what?" _

_Iseldir glared at him. "I told you to be silent."_

_Arthur closed his mouth._

_"Stay down, and stay close. No noise, do you understand? And do not leave my side. You are not a hero."_

_Arthur didn't like the way he had said that. Not "don't be a hero," but rather "you are not a hero." Like it had permanence._

_He would have continued mulling it over, but just then a noise burst from a tree a few feet away. Arthur jumped. Someone was talking. Or laughing. In the silence, it was deafening._

_Iseldir frowned, but moved towards the sound, Arthur right behind him. As they crested a slight incline, Arthur understood. The sound was not coming from the trees. _

_Before them, the woods dropped off into rocky cliffs and then a clearing, fifty or so feet below them._

_Arthur's mouth fell open._

_The clearing was alive with motion. Men and some women moved about, between cooking fires and makeshift tents. A few were carrying baskets and weapons and having conversations with one another. Others stood closer to the outskirts, silently watching. There must have been a few hundred people; their camps extended into the woods beyond. _

_And at the front, almost directly below Arthur and Iseldir, was Morgana._

_Arthur clenched his fists, but Iseldir placed a hand on his shoulder. "No rash decisions, Pendragon. She can kill you with a word."_

_Arthur glared at him, but forced himself to relax. He was speaking the truth._

_He turned to watch Morgana again. She was standing before a makeshift podium. By the bustle of people, Arthur could only assume she had just completed a speech of some sort, but now she was focused on someone out of Arthur's sight. He leaned a little and caught a glimpse of blonde hair. The anger came right back. Morgause._

_He surged up, forgetting that his sword had been taken. "I'll kill her now," he hissed. He took a few shaky steps down the cliff, then thought better of it, and began to pick his way sloppily along the edge, trying to find a safer way down._

_He was so caught up in his rage, he didn't notice when Iseldir's frantic whispers faded and were replaced by the low voices of angry men. He didn't notice the dark shapes behind him until the sharp end of a sword was pressed into his back._

"_Don't move." Came a low voice, and the blade was pressed harder. Arthur froze, realizing his idiocy only when it was too late, "Who are you?"_

_Arthur didn't reply. It was still too dark to see things entirely properly, and he hoped they wouldn't notice who he was until after he'd figured out how to get away. The blade pressed harder. Arthur winced._

"_I asked you a question."_

"_I-" The blade abruptly fell away from his back, followed by two nearly simultaneous thuds. Arthur turned around immediately to see Iseldir standing a few feet from him, the dead bodies of two of Morgana's men lying at his feet. His eyes were just changing back from gold. Iseldir frowned. "Your anger makes you weak."_

_Arthur was speechless. Had Iseldir just used magic to kill two people? Right in front of Arthur? ...in order to protect him? _

_He took a step away, his eyes suspicious. Iseldir had enough power to kill two men without breaking a sweat. If that wasn't danger, then nothing was._

_The Druid watched him._

_"For Gods' sake, if I had wanted to kill you I would have already."_

_Arthur still kept his distance._

_Just then, Morgana began speaking. Iseldir and Arthur exchanged a hurried glance and moved a few feet down the cliff, conflict forgotten._

_It seemed they had missed part of the conversation._

"_Is there any other news?" Morgana was stepping off of the podium, turning her pale eyes to Morgause._

"_We have one hundred from Cenred's kingdom on their way. They will arrive within the week." Morgause replied, smiling, "We could move out within a fortnight."_

_Morgana shook her head. "We need more time, sister. We do not yet have the force needed to take Camelot," she looked at the camp. "If we move now, we have already lost."_

_Morgause smiled. "That is what you said when Claudus's men came."_

"_We need to be prepared." _

_Morgause shook her head. "We are nearly eight-hundred strong."_

"_And Camelot is _bigger_!" Morgana shrieked. Arthur jumped. There was no reason for the outburst, no warning. This was not the levelheaded Morgana he had once known. _

_Silence settled between the sisters. Morgana bit her lip. "I am sorry, sister. I just- I do not want to lose my throne again."_

_Morgause placed her hands on Morgana's shoulders. "And we won't. We need less than you believe, child. You forget that Arthur's ignorance came with a lovely reward."_

"_Yes, but how much less? Camelot's army was one of the strongest in the lands even before Emrys. Stronger than eight-hundred."_

_Morgause nodded. "But that was under the direction of Uther. This is Arthur's army - Arthur's army without its magic little protector. He has the hatred, but neither the experience nor the ruthlessness of his father."_

_Morgana shifted. "But- He did kill Emrys."_

_Morgause laughed. "A rare display of brutality. Like I said, he has the hatred-"_

"And _the ruthlessness!" Morgana exclaimed, "He killed his own manservant without a second thought! Doesn't that show his hatred _and _his ruthlessness?"_

"_A single moment of abject stupidity does not make a man ruthless. It only proves him to be a hateful tyrant."_

"_But-"_

"_There is no argument, my sister. He murdered his greatest ally. If my source is correct, then his people serve him in name only; his friends are the same. He is the weakest he has ever been, and we are eight-hundred strong with magic on our side. It is time."_

"_Yes, but…" Morgana whispered, uncertain. Morgause squeezed her shoulders._

"_It _is_, Morgana. There has never been a better time to take what is rightfully yours. Are you ready?"_

_Morgana thought for a moment, then lifted her chin. "Yes."_

"_Good. Then we will leave within a fortnight." She gave Morgana one last squeeze, and then turned, moving out of Arthur's sight once again. A moment later, Morgana followed suit._

_Arthur stared at the empty podium for a long moment, trying to understand what he had seen. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned suddenly towards Iseldir, who was rising to stand, a finger to his lips._

_Arthur understood the gesture. As they picked their way down the slope and back towards the clearing Arthur had first woken in, he struggled to understand the conversation._

_Morgana and Morgause had an army, and a large one. That was certain. And they were planning on attacking Camelot in the next two weeks, after reinforcements came in. The army wasn't nearly as expansive as Camelot's, and Morgana knew it. But Morgause wasn't worried about that... because Merlin had died? Merlin and Emrys? That didn't make sense. Why would the death of her informant be helpful? Who was Emrys? Some kind of "magical protector," but why would anyone use magic to protect Camelot?_

_By the time they were back in the clearing, Arthur was more confused than when he started, and it was still dark. He sat down in the dry earth._

"_What did I just see?" He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. _

_He wasn't sure when he had begun to trust Iseldir enough to ask questions, but he assumed it was somewhere between the druid's angry speech and saving his life. It was far too detailed to be an act. Even Morgana wouldn't kill two of her own guards to get into his head._

_Iseldir remained standing, but looked at Arthur as he spoke. "You have made a grave mistake."_

_"Obviously." Arthur snorted. The chieftain shot him a venomous look._

_"Do you feel no remorse for what you have done?"_

_Arthur looked bewildered. "About what- about Emrys? I don't even know who that is."_

_The man laughed. It was a bitter, clipped sound. "Are you still playing dumb, your highness?"_

_The king sobered himself. "What are you talking about?"_

_Iseldir's face went from frustration to confusion in a fraction of a second. "Wait, do you truly not know?"_

_"Know what?"_

_"Nobody has told you?"_

_"Told me what?"_

_Iseldir looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, explaining this. "Emrys, Pendragon. You don't know about Emrys."_

_"Emrys?"_

_"Your destiny."_

_Arthur laughed. "I don't have a destiny."_

_"Oh, but everyone has a destiny ," Iseldir said, smiling sadly, "And Emrys is yours, as it has been since it was written in the stars at the beginning of time."_

_Arthur shook his head. He didn't have a destiny at all, let alone an important one. Nobody told him what to do. "I don't believe you."_

_Iseldir continued, however._

_"Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king, bringing a new age of peace to Albion, with Emrys, the most powerful man to ever walk the earth, by his side."_

_"You're wrong. I'd never associate myself with such a man." A dreadful feeling was beating against Arthur's chest. "Your destinies are wrong."_

_Iseldir shook his head. "You already have."_

_The blood drained from his face. "What?" The feeling was getting stronger. "When? When have I-?"_

_"He's saved your life, and you his, more times than I care to count."_

_"That's ridiculous!"_

_"Can you think of no time when magic could have been the source of your victories?"_

_"All of my victories have been my own," Arthur growled._

_But the more he thought about it..._

_"I would never give my life for another's, let alone a sorcerer," he reasoned out loud._

_Gods, Arthur was missing something. It was nagging at the back of his mind, just out of his reach. _

_"You gave your life for your manservant," Iseldir said, obviously sick of the game._

_Arthur scowled. "That was different. I didn't know he was a sorcerer at the time."_

_"But he was, whether you knew it or not, and he still stayed by your side."_

_"No, he betrayed me! He worked with Morgana!"_

_Iseldir shook his head. "You are still not understanding. Merlin was never working with Morgana."_

_"Yes. He was," Arthur said slowly, but his words were softer, "there's no other reason-"_

_"He wasn't."_

_"But he must have been!" Arthur exclaimed. That had to be the only truth. "Or else-"_

_Or else, why would he be in the castle, serving Arthur?_

_"Morgana herself just rejoiced your manservant's death. Why would she do that?"_

_Arthur swallowed. No, it couldn't be-_

_"She is obviously not in her right mind!"_

_"Arthur-"_

_Arthur shook his head. "But my manservant's name was Merlin. They were talking about Emrys!"_

_"Oh, was it Merlin?" Iseldir's face grew angrier. "Or _is _it? I know what you've done to him, king. There is no hiding your filth from me."_

_"What?" He squeaked._

_"Are you aware that he is a warlock? Not a sorcerer, a warlock."_

_"No-"_

_"And do you know that he has sworn himself to protect you?"_

_"He what?"_

_"You heard me."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because he is your destiny, Arthur," he said, "And you have betrayed him."_

"And then he told me about everything Merlin had done," Arthur finished. He hadn't taken his gaze off of the floor. "Which is so much… But I didn't believe him. I didn't want to believe him. I called him a liar. But he kept talking, and I was still lost in that bloody forest, and everything he said, it made sense. It fit. And..."

He trailed off and looked at Merlin.

"And you started to believe him?" Percival asked. He was still by the cot, but he had dragged a stool over to sit on as Arthur had spoken. "You started to believe him, so you came back and brought him to Gaius?"

Arthur shook his head.

"What? Then why is Merlin here?"

Arthur pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "He couldn't convince me. Not with his words. I didn't want to admit- I refused to believe anything he said." He kept his hands over his eyes. "The problem was that I already knew it was all true, I could feel it. It was like... I'd known all along about our destiny. But I didn't let myself think about it."

"Then what _did_ happen?" Gwaine, who had sat down on a bench next to Gwen, demanded.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "We were still in the forest, and I still wasn't listening, and then suddenly we weren't in the forest anymore. And I knew it was magic again."

"Where were you?" Percival asked.

Arthur shivered.

_The damp stones underfoot, the low sound of water dripping somewhere beyond his sight. It was too dark to see much, but Arthur was preoccupied by the smell. Rot and waste and blood and dirt._

_He gagged as the stunted forest became the cloying stone of Camelot's dungeons._

"The dungeons. We were in the dungeons. But we weren't _really_ there. We were, I don't know, somewhere in-between."

_"It's awful, isn't it?" Iseldir's voice rang from somewhere behind Arthur, and he whipped around, only to face more darkness. "The deepest part of the dungeons. You must know all about it, though. It's where the accused sorcerers are held."_

_Arthur's eyes watered as he adjusted to the low light, and he noticed that the wall he was staring at was a little blurry, as if he was looking at everything through a piece of fabric. "Where are you?!" He shouted, "Why bring me here?"_

_This time, the voice was closer to his left. "We're not really here, Pendragon. We're just visiting your prisoners." His surroundings shimmered a little, and he caught sight of a short, gnarled tree before the walls solidified again, "Your father was very good at making these cells escape-proof, even for a sorcerer. But we can watch."_

"Why were you in the dungeons?" Gwen asked, cutting in, "Was that when you rescued Merlin?"

"No," Arthur's voice was wavering. "He said- he just said we were there to watch."

"Watch what?"

Arthur pressed his hands over his ears. "My sins," he whispered.

_"If my words will not sway you, perhaps Merlin's will." Iseldir spit._

_Arthur's heart sped up."What are you talking abou-"_

_A scream ripped its way down the halls._

_Arthur's eyes widened._

_"Yes, that would be your manservant. Would you like to say hello?"_

_Arthur stumbled as his surroundings shifted, and he found himself standing in a large, round chamber. Cells lined three of the walls, while the hallway he had presumably just come through filled the fourth._

_The smell was almost unbearable._

_Before he could react to the change, another scream sounded uncomfortably close by. Arthur jumped and turned towards the cell in the far corner just as the screams died off, replaced with quiet murmuring._

_"Go on." Iseldir said, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the room shift around him. He didn't need to see to know what he was now facing._

_Merlin's little corner of Hell._

_"Open your eyes, Pendragon. Nobody here can see you. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. He is a traitor, after all. He has earned it."_

_Arthur kept his eyes closed._

"I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. I just... I couldn't see what I'd done. But it wasn't just in my eyes. It was everywhere."

Nobody in the room spoke.

"It was in my nose and I could smell it. It was in my mouth and the back of my throat. I could taste the stones. And it was in my ears. Gods, they were so _loud..._"

_Standing so close, Arthur could make out the muttering coming from the cell._

_What he heard made his blood run cold._

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," a guard was whispering, and Arthur could hear the tears filling the man's throat, "God, I'm so sorry-"_

_He almost didn't recognize Merlin's voice as he responded. It was hoarse and fragile, his speech almost childlike._

_"P-Please. C-Can we s-stop? It h-hurts."_

_"I can't," the guard breathed, and he sounded genuinely sorry, "you know I can't. They'll be back with the reports any second and if I'm not..." He trailed off. "They'll do it worse. They always do."_

_Arthur heard the clink of chains and knew Merlin was nodding. "I know," he whispered._

_The guard choked on a sob. "Ready?"_

_Merlin whimpered in answer. The chains clinked again, once, quickly._

_"Okay," the guard said, taking a deep breath, "on three, okay? One, two-"_

_There was a sharp snap, and Merlin let out another scream._

_"Fuck, I'm so sorry."_

_"I-It's 'k-kay..." Came Merlin's weak reply._

_Arthur couldn't stand the noise- not when he knew the sound. He lowered his hands from his face and his eyes immediately fell on the two people in the cell._

_Merlin was tied to a chair in the middle of the cell by his arms and legs, completely naked save for the collar that tethered his neck to the chair's spine. It was difficult to make out the state of his body through the darkness and haze, but he was rigid in the chair, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Tears were forcing themselves down his cheeks and dripping from his chin, but he was biting down on his lip as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check._

_Next to him, a guard was kneeling so that they were at almost eye-level, his hands on Merlin's left wrist. The bindings had been removed from the limb, so Merlin and the guard were able to move it freely, but it was obvious Merlin wasn't utilizing the freedom. Instead, the guard was cradling Merlin's limp hand gently in his thick gloves as if it was something precious. The guard appeared to be making a valiant effort to not cry, but unshed tears still glistened in his eyes._

"But then you rescued him," Gwen whispered, although she knew it wasn't the truth, "and you brought him to Gaius, and-"

Arthur's gut twisted. "I wasn't there, Remember? Not physically. I couldn't do anything. Even when-"

_Footsteps echoed down the hall behind Arthur, and suddenly the guard straightened up, dropping Merlin's hand onto the armrest. Merlin let out a pained cry and jerked weakly in his chair as it hit, and for the first time, Arthur had a clear view of Merlin's fingers. _

_His pinkie was bent at an odd angle, obviously the source of the snapping sound earlier. A quick glance revealed that Merlin's right hand was in even worse shape, with each of his fingers minus his thumb already broken. The guard hadn't even bothered to tie it to the chair again._

_As the footsteps got louder, Arthur panicked, forgetting he wasn't visible until the men who owned the footsteps rounded the corner and seemed to look straight through him. One of them carried a quill and some parchment while the other followed behind. They both wore identical annoyed expressions._

_As they made their way down the hallway, Arthur became aware of the commotion that had started in Merlin's cell. The guard was trying to school his expression into one of indifference as he hurriedly tied Merlin's damaged right hand to the chair. Merlin was doing his best to stay quiet as his broken fingers were jostled, but a few small cries were escaping anyway._

_"They're coming - shit. They're coming. I'm sorry-" the guard was whispering, although Arthur wasn't sure Merlin even had the capacity to hear him in that moment. The guard lifted Merlin's left hand again, took a firm grip of the index finger with both hands, and glanced at the pair of men._

_"Okay, on three again, alright?" He whispered so quietly, Arthur wasn't sure he heard it at all until Merlin gave an almost imperceptible nod. The guard swallowed, "Okay. One, two-"_

_With a single, quick motion, the guard broke the index finger just as the men came into full view. Merlin bit down on his lip so hard, it drew blood, but he didn't scream. The guard gagged and nearly dropped Merlin's hand._

_"Tell me Morgana's plans!" He yelled instead, his voice only wavering a little as he played his part for the scribe, who had finally come to stand in front of the cell with his bodyguard. Merlin trembled at the sudden change in tone, and it was clear that the pain of the most recent finger had finally become too much for the poor boy to handle. When he opened his mouth, blood from his lips dribbled onto his chest._

_"N- Nuh- r-ree-" Merlin cut himself off with a gurgling noise as some of the blood drained down his throat._

_The guard turned his head away from the scribe as he forced his face into neutrality again, swallowing his guilt. Merlin was too far gone to know the difference between him _pretending _to ask questions and _really _asking questions. From the resigned look on the guard's face, Arthur wondered if this had happened before._

_The scribe walked up to the bars and peered in. "Sounds like you're making progress down here," he said, making a few notes on his piece of parchment, "Gotten anything from him yet?"_

_The guard shook his head. "No, sir."_

_The scribe clicked his tongue. "How difficult is it to get a serving boy to speak?" He jerked his head towards his bodyguard. "Let Sir Parse try his hand on the boy."_

_The guard took a half-step in front of Merlin, as if to protect him from the scribe's bodyguard. "That won't be necessary," he said, a bit too quickly, "there are only two fingers left, and I am sure I can manage-"_

_"Two fingers left?!" The scribe exclaimed, "why, last I checked, you'd already broken three! What have you been doing? You've had more than enough time to finish-"_

_"Yes, yes, but I was worried that he might pass out-"_

_"Then dump some water on him and continue!" The scribe snapped. "Sir Parse, please finish the job for sir...?" He looked at him expectantly._

_The guard whispered a name, but the scribe waived him off._

_"Hurry up with it! If you want this report ready for you to deliver to the king by tonight, I need to get going!"_

_The smaller guard bowed his head as he unlocked the cell door and allowed Sir Parse into the space. He held his fists stiffly at his sides as the large man approached Merlin's chair and lifted his hand._

_"Well, go on," the scribe said, addressing the guilty guard, "ask him a question."_

_"Me? But I'm not sure he's capable of-"_

_"Ask him a question!"_

_The guard jumped, then opened his mouth. "S-Sorcerer," he stammered, "where is Morgana and her army hiding?"_

_Merlin moaned and slumped forward, drooling blood. He didn't seem to realize anybody was speaking at all._

_Sir Parse lifted Merlin's final two fingers as a warning. Still no response. The scribe shrugged, and with another quick motion and an even louder snap, the bodyguard broke Merlin's remaining fingers at the same time._

_At once, Merlin's body went rigid. The bodyguard released his ruined hand just as Merlin caught his breath enough to shriek in agony, writhing against the ropes that still held him down. His voice gave out and he immediately burst into hoarse sobs, curling his hand into his lap in an attempt to protect it._

_The scribe wrinkled his nose as he watched Merlin's reaction. He wrote a few more notes down. "This creature is utterly useless," he announced, and beckoned to his bodyguard, "truly. A pitiful waste of space." _

_And with that, he was gone._

_Arthur watched, open-mouthed. Did the scribe not see that Merlin was obviously in so much pain, he wasn't even capable of normal human speech, yet alone answering questions? How could he stand there and accuse a defenseless-_

_Oh._

_That was exactly what he wanted... Wasn't it? He wanted his subjects to be like Sir Parse and the scribe, not like the guard and Merlin._

_Somehow, that didn't sit well in his stomach._

_Arthur looked back at Merlin. The guard was crying openly now as he loosened the ropes on Merlin's right wrist enough to slide his hand out. _

_"They're gone now," the guard said, "it's okay. It's over. You're-"_

_But Merlin flinched away from his voice and began to tremble. He didn't understand what was going on, but he recognized the guard's voice and the pain that so often followed, even if the pain was reluctant. Blood started seeping from his lip more quickly as he bit it again._

_"Hey, hey-" the guard whispered, kneeling in front of Merlin, "don't do that."_

_Merlin whimpered and swallowed, bowing his head in shame as he tried to hide the sobs that rocked his body. The guard placed a hand on Merlin's pale shoulder, and Merlin froze._

_"Nobody is going to hurt you for crying now," he whispered. "You're allowed to cry."_

_Merlin remained tensed for another second. The guard moved so that his hand was cradling Merlin's chin - the boy was too exhausted and weak to hold it up any longer - and was surprised when Merlin leaned into it. The guard smiled sadly. Any other time, he would have felt ridiculous, but he had watched as this defiant, strong man had been beaten into nothing more than a scared, hurt child, and he'd be damned if he was going to deny the boy the first loving touch he'd felt in over a month. If anyone needed to know _someone _cared for them, it was Merlin. He was dead to his family and friends and hated by most of the men who came in to hurt him day in and day out. Hell, even his own king had ordered him tortured for information that the guard was now entirely sure he had never known in the first place. He deserved to have at least one person care for him like a son, or a brother, or a friend, or even just a human being, before he forgot what that was like entirely._

_When the guard didn't pull his hand away, Merlin waited for it to move, to hurt him. When it didn't, he opened his mouth and began to cry freely, tears spilling over his cheeks. He cradled his broken hands in his lap and shivered in the dungeon air, and it was as if all of Merlin's strength left with the tears. He slumped forward and the guard held Merlin's head to his own chest, running his fingers through his dirty hair as they both mourned what they had lost in that cell._

_And then Arthur was moving again._

"Iseldir pulled me out of the dungeons then," Arthur said, and he was crying now, "but he got what he wanted. I saw what I needed to see. I woke up in the castle courtyard. And..." He motioned towards all of them, "and you know the rest."

Everybody was silent.

"Well?" Arthur said, looking at them. He wanted them to be angry. He wanted them to rage and yell, to tear into him with their words and fists like they'd done before. He deserved it. He deserved all of it and more, after they knew the entire story.

Instead, they remained still.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably on the ground under the weight of their stares.

The silence was suffocating. Then-

"Owain," Gwen said, more to herself than anybody else, and the mood was broken.

"What?" Arthur asked. He sounded far too surprised by a simple name, a fact that didn't go unnoticed.

Gwen looked up. "Sir Owain. Was that the guard in the dungeons, the one that was hurting Merlin?"

Arthur paled, "How... How could you possibly know that?" He asked, then panicked. "You have to understand, he was under orders. He never wanted to hurt-"

"I know," Gwen said, and now everyone was listening. Gwen blushed at the sudden attention, "he came to see Merlin earlier," she explained, "but I turned him away. He seemed very upset when he learned Merlin wasn't alright."

Arthur sighed, "He was always so ashamed of what he was doing."

"And he never wanted to hurt him, either," Leon piped up. "He kept talking about innocence, and I just kept sending him back down..."

Gwen was chewing on her thumbnail. "He looked so guilty."

Arthur shook his head. He had made happy, strong men beg for death, kindhearted knights become torturers, and his friends enemies. He had destroyed everything. What had he hoped to gain?

He stood and took a step towards Merlin.

Everybody in the room immediately moved to put themselves in front of Merlin, creating a physical barrier between him and Arthur. Arthur stopped.

"I just need to see." He said, holding his hands up. They exchanged glances, obviously surprised by their own reactions, but moved away from the cot.

Arthur walked slowly, his feet heavier than he could ever remember them being, until he was directly next to the warlock on the cot. There was a clean sheet covering most of him now, and his wounds were bandaged, but in his mind's eye Arthur could still see the vivid red cloak as it fell away to reveal Merlin's thin chest, stained red and brown with blood and pus...

He shook his head to clear it.

Merlin's eyes were closed as his chest rose and fell, but even in unconsciousness, his face was pinched with pain.

"Is there nothing to help him with the pain, Gaius?" Arthur wasn't sure who that request was going to help more- him or Merlin- he just couldn't bare to see the pain he had caused.

Gaius shook his head. "I gave him a draught while Gwen was gathering the knights, but I cannot give him anymore. Perhaps a sleeping draught..."

He uncorked a vial from his pocket and poured a little bit between Merlin's lips. Merlin's breath hitched. His brow creased.

"It doesn't seem to be working," Arthur said, hoping Gaius would tell him he was wrong, that the draught was working perfectly, that Merlin wasn't still suffering.

It was wishful thinking.

"It is," Gaius growled, "but I cannot soften his pain if it is not physical."

"Isn't all pain physical?"

Gaius glared. "Maybe for _you_. But Merlin is not _like_ you, sire. You should have known that before you had him tortured."

Arthur hung his head. He might have admitted he was wrong, but that didn't mean anybody was forgiving him. He was still responsible for Merlin's agony.

"I'm sorry, Gaius, but I don't know."

"Really, sire?" Gaius didn't believe him.

"I'm serious, Gaius. I don't understand."

If anything, that made the physician angrier.

"His magic, Arthur. You mutilated his body, and if that was not bad enough you had to go and mutilate his magic, too."

"What? I never even touched his magic! I don't even know how you would start."

"Well, you could cut it out of him," Gaius said, "I'm sure that would be a good place to start. And then poison what's left of it."

Arthur still wasn't following. "I never did those things..."

Gaius crossed his arms. "Really," he asked, and pulled the bandages back from one of Merlin's arms, revealing the long, bloody marks the iron dust had caused. "So Merlin did this to himself?"

Arthur stared. "That just weakened him," he said, but now he was unsure. "It just kept him from acting out too much."

"Because it poisoned his magic through his blood, Arthur."

"What?" Arthur looked at the marks, "but it's just iron! It doesn't- it isn't poisonous! I mean, even his collar-"

Arthur froze.

"His collar..?" Gaius prompted.

"His collar's made of iron, but- but it only numbed the magic, so he couldn't feel it. The jewelsmith said-"

"He cannot feel it because he does not _have_ it. Or at least not most of it. Obviously, the collar left him a little, enough to survive off of, but most of it you have forcibly removed."

"But he tried to cast just a few minutes ago."

"And did you see the reaction? What happens when you try to take the only thing keeping someone alive away from them?"

Arthur closed his mouth.

"Exactly. My draught is working perfectly fine, but the wounds in his magic are hurting him."

"I didn't realize..."

"Of course not. You didn't realize a good deal of things."

"Excuse me," Gwaine said, having watched the conversation unfold, "forgive me, but can't we just take the bloody collar off?"

Arthur and Gaius exchanged glances. They obviously knew something the others didn't.

"No," Gaius said slowly, "at least not with what we have now."

Gwaine leaned down to inspect the collar. "Why not?" He asked, looking for some kind of latch, "It seems simple enough. Where's the key?"

That was when Arthur spoke. "We can't take it off because- well, because there's no latch. And there is no key."

Gwen dropped the bowl of water she was using to re-apply the bandage Gaius had loosened. "That's-That's impossible. It had to have gotten around his neck somehow! It didn't just appear there."

"There _was_ a latch," Arthur explained, "but it was on the inside. Once the collar was locked in place, it became inaccessible. The jewel smith didn't even bother to make a key."

"Why? Why make a collar that cannot be removed?"

Again, Gaius and Arthur shared a look. "Because they were made during the Purge," Gaius said. "And fitted to anyone accused of sorcery. And back then, sorcery was _always_ a death sentence. They never needed to be removed."

All eyes turned to Arthur as they realized the implications of that fact. The moment Arthur had locked the collar around his neck, he had already made up his mind that Merlin was guilty. He'd already decided Merlin was going to die.

But there was no time for that now. They needed to focus on the present.

"Could we cut it off?" Gwaine asked.

"We could break the lock," Leon said, "there must be a weak point there."

"What about applying heat? It could damage the mechanisms," Gwen added.

Gaius shook his head.

"It's solid iron. And it's far too close to Merlin's neck. If something goes wrong..."

"We could at least remove some of the jewels," Arthur said quietly.

Breaking the collar was momentarily put on hold.

"Jewels?"

"Between the collar and his neck," Arthur's face reddened in shame again. He looked at his hands. "Iron numbs the magic, but nickel weakens the muscles, rubies slow the blood, amethyst slows the mind, and emeralds slow the lungs." He repeated what the jewelsmith had told him. As he neared the end, he mumbled, afraid to say it too loudly. "Did nobody notice them?"

Gaius's mouth fell open. "And all of those things are in the collar right now?"

Arthur nodded.

"Oh..." Gaius made a startled noise of realization and instantly grabbed a different vial from the shelf. He didn't bother to measure anything, just poured a generous amount down Merlin's throat and seized his shoulders, turning him onto his side. "The sleeping draught works by slowing the pulse down slightly," he said, "But if the rubies are already doing that-"

Gwen jumped up.

"We need to get him to purge the draught before it takes effect," he finished as Gwen took her place to help hold Merlin on his side.

Gaius grabbed the bucket she had dropped before and placed it in front of Merlin's face.

"What I just gave him should induce vomiting," he said, moments before Merlin's body tensed and he began to gag.

At first, nothing came up. There wasn't enough in him. But then some bile forced its way up his throat, and in seconds Merlin had vomited up everything that he had had in his stomach -some blood, two draughts, and a little water.

He didn't regain consciousness once during the entire procedure.

"That should be fine for now," Gaius was saying, laying Merlin down again, "I think the best we can do is let him rest until we can figure out..."

But Arthur was lost in his own thoughts.

Some blood and water. _That_ was what Merlin had been living off of since his last meal.

Nothing else. No solid food. He hadn't had anything to eat in days. Just a few mouthfuls of water and his own blood.

Suddenly, the walls of Gaius's chambers were too close, the dim light of the candles too bright, Merlin's breathing too loud. Arthur couldn't catch his breath as the sickly scent of Merlin's scant stomach contents filled the room.

"I need to go," he said quickly, and without another word, he sprinted from the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**I am so sorry that I was gone for so long- May was a lot more hectic than I expected it to be. But no fear! Here is another chapter. It's kind of a filler, but think of it as necessary to get to more action-y parts, which will be coming up soon!**

**Enjoy! ~Rain**

* * *

**Previously...**

Some blood and water. That was what Merlin had been living off of since his last meal.

Nothing else. No solid food. He hadn't had anything to eat in days. Just a few mouthfuls of water and his own blood.

Suddenly, the walls of Gaius's chambers were too close, the dim light of the candles too bright, Merlin's breathing too loud. Arthur couldn't catch his breath as the sickly scent of Merlin's scant stomach contents filled the room.

"I need to go," he said quickly, and without another word, he sprinted from the room.

* * *

Gods, he had messed up.

As Arthur moved down the hallway, that was all he could think.

He had messed up.

He had messed up.

Tattered cloth still hung from the windows, blending in with the stark black of the sky. Arthur could hear it whispering against the stones of the walls as he rounded the corner and entered the main hallway. Distantly, he wondered where the time had gone. Had he been in Gaius's chambers the entire day? Had it really been yesterday morning that he had dragged Merlin out of the dungeons? Torches flickered shadows against the floor and for a moment he was back in the dungeons, listening to Merlin's screams echoing down the corridor.

He winced and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, moving quickly into the courtyard. Merlin wasn't in the dungeons anymore. He was with Gaius. He was safe.

_Safe and starving. Safe and gagging up his own blood._

Arthur's legs gave out at the same time as his stomach, and he was on his hands and knees, retching like Merlin had done just moments before. Unlike Merlin, however, Arthur had enough in his stomach to vomit properly.

As Merlin had slowly starved to death below him, Arthur had been eating-feasting- like the king he was.

How much had Merlin been allowed to eat in the last month? Three meals a week? Two? How long ago must it have been since Merlin had eaten, that there was nothing in him even to vomit?

Arthur felt like he was thinking in circles.

Shuddering, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood. The moon had risen sometime before, and was now throwing silvery light over the walls and across the desolate scape of the courtyard. Targets lay basking in the shadows, bits of broken weaponry from the training of the day sticking into the grass. Arthur lifted a piece of spear and crushed it in his fist. The wood crumbled, rotten through.

"What have I done," he whispered.

"I don't know."

Arthur jumped, dropping the handful of wood dust. A shadow made itself known atop one of the walls, silhouetted against the moon.

"What?" Arthur squinted, trying to see who it was. The shape didn't move from the wall, but Arthur could make out the line of a head and shoulders, bowed against a set of knees. The head turned towards Arthur, its features black against the stars. It spoke again.

"What have we done?"

Arthur moved towards the silhouette. "Owain..?"

The figure tensed, but then released its hold on its legs. The face turned to look over its other shoulder, at the town and forest and the night beyond. Arthur leaned against the wall and looked up.

"I thought that the air would help," the figure said, and Arthur hoisted himself up onto the wall, taking a seat next to the figure and swinging his legs over the edge to look at the darkened kingdom.

"So did I," Arthur whispered, and yes, it was Owain. Arthur could see his features as the knight turned to face the same direction as Arthur. The moon glinted off of his pale eyes and Arthur saw the tear tracks already coursing down his cheeks.

"And is it working?" he asked, not looking at Arthur. Arthur sighed and rested his chin in his hand.

"No," Arthur said. Owain laughed, but there was no mirth in it.

"Same."

They remained silent. Owain fiddled with one of his gloves, and out of the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed that the other one was missing. He abruptly felt like there was something he should say to Owain, something building in his gut, but he wasn't sure what.

"It won't get out of my head."

Arthur's brow crinkled. What wouldn't get out of his head?

Owain creased one of the fingers of the glove, scratching at the dirt still caked to the leather after a day of work. The quiet stretched on again, squeezed between them and seeping into the rock wall.

"I don't know if I should be angry."

Arthur looked at Owain. "About what?"

"It's not a what," he said, his eyes still cast down, "It's a who."

_Oh._ Arthur leaned back. "Me."

Owain shrugged. "And me."

This time, Arthur turned to face him fully. "You?"

Owain crumpled the glove in his fist as an answer.

"But you didn't do anything."

Owain laughed. "Didn't I?" He lifted the glove, letting the moonlight touch it. For the first time, Arthur could see the glove fully.

Blood.

Spattered across the fingers and palm, smeared into the lacing, blood stained the glove instead of dirt. Arthur felt sick all over again. He didn't need to be told whose blood it was. "If I didn't do anything, then who did?"

Arthur swallowed. "I gave the orders, Owain. You were just following orders."

"And I could have stopped following orders at any time, couldn't I? But I didn't. I hurt him more than anybody. It was my choice, and I chose."

"Nobody blames you."

"Yeah? And what about me? Who do I blame?"

Arthur didn't know how to respond.

"Exactly." Owain whispered, leaping from the wall and landing on his feet in the courtyard below. Arthur watched him, speechless, as he disappeared through the nearest archway. Arthur was left on the wall alone, looking over the kingdom far below.

* * *

For a moment after Arthur fled the room, everybody stared at the empty place Arthur had been occupying with confusion.

Then Merlin coughed weakly, and the moment was gone.

Gwen went to work wiping the bloody vomit off of Merlin's lips and chin. Gaius pressed two fingers to his wrist, terrified that he would hear Merlin's heart slow and stop altogether; that the vomiting had not been as effective as it had needed to be.

Gwaine and Percival stood with their hands hovering uselessly, wanting to help but unsure how.

Leon remained further back, watching the commotion.

"He's stable for now," Gaius said, releasing the warlock's wrist.

The entire room seemed to let out a breath they didn't know they were holding.

"But we still need to be cautious. If the collar truly has the properties that Arthur described…" he trailed off.

"Yes?" Gwaine prompted. Gaius shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. We will be cautious." Nobody knew how to respond to that, so Gaius continued, "In the meantime, you should get some rest. There is nothing you can do for him now."

Nobody moved.

"I will be here the entire night, and you have duties to fulfill and people to protect."

Still, no movement. Gaius furrowed his brow and set his jaw.

"Morgana will be here in a fortnight. Stop being pigheaded while the kingdom needs you. You will be no help to Merlin if you cannot protect Camelot from an attack."

That seemed to work as everyone turned reluctantly towards the door.

"Wait," Gaius said, "Gwen. Can you stay for a little longer?"

Gwen nodded.

"Good, then the rest of you- go home, get some rest, and come back later. I will let you know if there is any change."

The group nodded solemnly and filed out, stealing glances at Merlin as they did so. Gaius watched them leave. The moment the door shut, his face collapsed into a frown.

Gwen looked at him intently. "Gaius, what's wrong?"

There was no reason for him to keep her back; Merlin was resting.

Gaius sighed. "Again, honesty."

Gwen nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"I wanted to avoid saying it while the knights were in the room, but you must know. I've known these collars to be the death of many sorcerers."

Silence. Gwen slid her hand into Merlin's.

"Now, I would say it is a miracle he is in the state he is in now, having had that collar on him all this time. But Merlin is a very powerful warlock, the likes of which I have never seen, and I suspect that is playing a role in keeping him stable."

"Why are you telling me this, Gaius?"

"Because I need someone to understand the gravity of the situation. From now on, getting that collar off of him becomes priority."

Gwen ran her fingers over Merlin's bruised, bandaged knuckles. "I will help, Gaius, but you should tell the knights. They have a right to know just as much as I do."

She didn't mention Arthur. She wasn't going to mention Arthur. As far as she was concerned, he no longer had any right to Merlin at all.

Gaius bowed his head. "I will consider it. Now you may go, Guinevere. I can watch Merlin for the remainder of tonight. As long as his fever stays down and infection stays at bay, he should be alright for a few hours."

Gwen hesitated.

"Don't make me give you a speech."

She blushed, but finally left.

The room groaned under the pressure of the sudden emptiness.

Gaius dragged a stool beside Merlin and took the hand Gwen had been holding. Merlin shifted a little and fell still again, and Gaius felt tears press against the backs of his eyes. Even with Merlin in his care, alive and safe from further torture, Gaius wasn't sure he could fix everything. Some of the damage done to Merlin's body would no doubt scar, even if Gaius did his best to keep it from doing so. The bones could heal, but Gaius could only pray they hadn't already begun to heal twisted and useless. And God only knew what had been done to Merlin's mind during a month of imprisonment and pain.

If they could get the collar off, Gaius knew it would be long road to recovery, if it was possible at all.

The night dragged on.

* * *

The morning broke with an orange-brown haze through the black cloth over Gaius's windows, and with it came Gwen, a bucket of water in hand, clattering through the door loudly enough to wake the whole kingdom.

Merlin didn't stir.

"How is he?" She asked, placing the water on the table. Gaius was kneeling in front of the fire, stirring the morning embers into flames again. He got up slowly.

"The same as last night."

"No fever?"

Gaius shook his head. "Not any worse than before."

Gwen put a hand on his forehead. Heat still burned his bruised brow, but Gaius was right- the fever hadn't changed.

"Is that normal? No change?"

Gaius took his place by Gwen. "The iron dust isn't out of his system yet. He is probably still fighting it."

"And the collar?"

"Certainly not helping matters."

"Have you found a way to remove it?"

Gaius motioned to the work table, where books lay scattered, opened and dog-eared. Evidence of what he had spent the night doing.

"Nothing so far. Arthur was right about what each jewel is supposed to do, though. That is not good news, but at least there are no surprises. The collar cuts his magic away from him while the jewels slow and weaken his bodily systems."

"Then that could also be causing the fever."

"Yes," he sighed, "That could be causing the fever as well."

A beat. There were two many uncertainties and not enough words to express them.

"The water is for soup," Gwen said suddenly, trying to change the subject, "I thought maybe Merlin's stomach would be settled now."

"Thank you, Guinevere." Gaius said, regaining his focus, "The effects of the potion I used last night should be mostly gone now."

Instead of answering, Gwen simply lifted the water from the table and began to look through cabinets, trying to find ingredients to make some kind of broth to feed Merlin. Gaius stopped her for long enough to fill a goblet of water for himself and another for Merlin, hoping to coax the liquid between Merlin's chapped lips.

But the unspoken tension remained.

And so began their day.

Gaius only succeeded in getting a few sips of water into Merlin before he coughed and retched it back up again.

"I suppose the potion isn't out of his system yet," he said as he cleaned the vomit from the floor. Gwen offered a weak smile. Neither one of them wanted to believe that maybe Merlin's body simply didn't know how to process the water in the state he had been kept in for the last month.

They waited an hour before trying the water again. Gwen put together a thin soup in that time, but Gaius insisted they try water first. Gwen didn't argue.

As the water trickled between his lips, he coughed, and Gaius, panicked, thought that maybe the draught had been too strong before Merlin swallowed and relaxed. He took a breath along with Gwen as the water stayed down.

Some of the tension eased.

"I can take over, Gaius, if you'd like to continue researching the collar," Gwen said, seizing an opportunity. Gaius hesitated- The fatherly part of him wanted to stay with Merlin forever- before relinquishing the cup. Gwen smiled as she took it, understanding his hesitation.

"If he continues to respond to the water well, you can try the soup."

And with that, he went to his table and began to flip through yet more books.

As the day dragged on, Gwen did her best to keep him hydrated, to feed him as he slept. Gaius watched with quick, worried glances as she tried water and then the broth, tipping it down his throat and making him swallow. In the end Merlin could only manage a few mouthfuls of each before he began to gag again.

"It's okay, Guinevere, give him time." Gaius said after Merlin gagged for the third time. He had managed to keep everything down, and Gaius knew Gwen would have kept trying, but it was obvious the dry heaving was using up energy he didn't have. "He might not be used to large quantities of food. We'll have to introduce it slowly."

Gwen set the soup down. She knew how starvation worked, and she knew they needed to reintroduce food slowly, but she also knew that he should have been able to handle more than what she had given him. Gaius could see it in her frown and in her worried eyes.

The day dragged on. From his desk in the corner Gaius could watch everybody coming and going.

Gwen spent her time with Merlin holding his bandaged hand and begging him to wake, to eat, to heal. She fell asleep by his side and Gaius could see the hope in her eyes when she woke, only for it to fade when she found him the same: pale and thin and feverish. Nothing she did seemed to get him to keep more than incrementally smaller amounts of fluids down.

Gaius went back to his books.

Gwaine and Percival stopped by in the sliver of time before patrol and after training. Gaius looked up long enough to watch Gwen get called away to do chores, and Gwaine take her place. The physician smiled when the knight began to tell stories. They rose loudly and always fell flat, but they were more noise than the scraping sinew of Merlin's breathing. He had traded his time drinking in the tavern for sitting on a stool, coaxing fluids into Merlin's body. To Gaius's surprise, he was rivaled only by Percival at getting the boy to eat, but it still wasn't enough.

Percival came with Gwaine after training, but when Gwaine left for patrol, Percival stayed. He cradled Merlin in his arms and dribbled soup down his throat with an expertise that would have made Gwen jealous, had they cared about those things. The large knight was more gentle than Gaius would have thought possible, and when he left in the late afternoon, the physician couldn't help but feel a little saddened by his absence.

As the day turned to night, Gwen returned, and do did Leon. He stood in the corner with his arms folded across his chest, watching, regret in his eyes. He never sat down. He never touched him. He just watched and begged silently, mouthing apologies and prayers. He left before Gwen did. He seemed to fear being in the room alone.

As Leon left with the evening sun, Gaius finally decided it was a good time to speak. With a heavy heart, he looked at Guinevere.

"There is nothing here, Guinevere," he said, lighting another candle and shutting a book. The day was over and he had gotten nowhere. It had simply slithered by.

"How can that be?" She was always so hopeful, but even she looked tired, and it had only been a little over two days. How were they going to continue like this? How was Merlin going to continue like this?

"The collars were invented during the Purge, but these books were written before that," Gaius explained, "I had thought that maybe something similar had been used prior to Uther's reign, but it seems they are unique to the last twenty years- nothing has been written about them."

Gwen took up her seat beside Merlin while Gaius continued,

"I don't even know how to ease the symptoms. There are entire texts devoted to the effects of certain minerals on a sorcerer's mind, magic, and body, but the first step is always to remove the stones from the sorcerer's contact..."

He trailed off, his eyes locked on Merlin. He didn't need a physician's eye to see Merlin was declining.

"And he isn't eating," he said quietly, "and I know that you are aware he should be, even with the rations he was on. And I can't explain that, either. It might be the collar. But it might be the iron dust, or an infection, or some other injury I have missed. I don't know. I have not been able to treat him the way I should be..."

"You've been treating him the best you know how, Gaius."

"But I fear it is not enough."

"It will be. We'll get the collar off."

"Guinevere-"

Gwen cut him off. "You forget you're not alone. You have me and the knights. Have you told them about the danger of the collar yet? They have been in and out of this room all day. They could go to the jewelsmith, or find Iseldir. They are valuable and they care about Merlin just as much as we do."

Gaius bowed his head. Truth be told, he'd been so focused on helping Merlin, he'd forgotten about everybody else's abilities to help outside of sitting with and feeding him. "I have to admit, I have not. And I didn't even consider the Druids."

"Nor the jewelsmith?"

He hesitated. That he had thought about, at least a little. "...I am afraid he will do more harm than good if put in the presence of a known magic-user. Anybody who makes collars like this will certainly not free a sorcerer willingly."

Gwen huffed. "You're making assumptions. And Merlin can't afford assumptions."

"He also cannot afford any more injuries, especially not from vengeful, magic-hating men who have the means to kill him at their disposal." He snapped.

There was a long pause. Gaius thought about apologizing, but Gwen beat him to it.

"I will call on one of the knights to find Iseldir. If he helped once, then maybe he will help again. And the jewelsmith..." She didn't like what she was about to say, "maybe Arthur could convince him otherwise."

The physician cringed. He knew Arthur regretted what he had done, but it didn't change the fact that he had done it. And it didn't mean Gaius was any more comfortable with letting him near Merlin. He supposed it was some kind of fatherly instinct, or maybe it was just because Merlin was so vulnerable.

"If we must," he said, and he knew Gwen felt the same way he did about the situation.

"Then it is settled," she said, nodding once, "I will leave as soon as our conversation is over."

"Will you alert the knights to the gravity of the situation?" Gaius said, then, as an afterthought, "They each came by today to try to help him eat. Percival and Gwaine had a knack for it."

Gwen raised her eyebrows. "So he's eating now?"

Gaius winced, "Not… well, yes, but not as much as he should be. He keeps gagging it up. I think Percival was the most successful, but even he only got a few spoonfuls into him before Merlin refused any more."

"Oh." Her hopes deflated. They both stood in silence.

"I will continue the research," Gaius said quietly.

"And I will go."

From his dimly lit desk, Gaius watched her leave.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello! **

**These updates continue to be sporadic. I would apologize, but I'm 99% sure they will continue to be, so I won't waste your time. But they will keep coming, so don't worry! Thank you to everybody who has been reading and/or reviewing this story! **

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

Gwen raised her eyebrows. "So he's eating now?"

Gaius winced, "Not… well, yes, but not as much as he should be. He keeps gagging it up. I think Percival was the most successful, but even he only got a few spoonfuls into him before Merlin refused any more."

"Oh." Her hopes deflated. They both stood in silence.

"I will continue the research," Gaius said quietly.

"And I will go."

From his dimly lit desk, Gaius watched her leave.

* * *

Gwen padded down the hallway with her hands clasped tightly to her chest in an attempt to slow her fluttering heartbeat. Of course she knew she was going to have to talk to Arthur eventually, but she hadn't thought about it until now, and she hadn't thought it would be this soon. Merlin hadn't even woken up yet- although that was why they had to talk, wasn't it?

Too soon, she was standing in front of Arthur's door. Would Arthur even be in his chambers? It had been more than twenty-four hours since he'd run out of Gaius's chambers without explanation, and perhaps he was off doing kingly things.

But no, it was night. He'd be in bed.

She knocked on the door.

"Leave me alone," came Arthur's gruff reply. Gwen hesitated, but swallowed her anger down. This was for Merlin.

"It's- it's me, Arthur. It's Gwen."

There was no noise.

"Arthur, please, I need to speak to you."

Heaven knew she wouldn't be speaking to him otherwise.

Still no reply. She tried once more, a different approach.

"It's about Merlin."

There was some movement behind the door, and then it swung open.

To say Gwen was surprised by Arthur's appearance was an understatement. There were dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders were hunched. His hair stuck up like he had been running his fingers through it compulsively. As he leaned in the doorway, the king of Camelot looked every bit the sad, tired man he must have been for the last few days.

Gwen might have even felt a little bad for him.

"What do you want?" He asked quietly, not making eye contact.

It took Gwen a moment to find her voice again. When she did, all she could get out was a confused, "Arthur?" As she took an involuntary step toward him.

Arthur shifted away. Still, his voice remained subdued, "Why are you here?"

Gwen studied him for another moment before speaking.

"Are you okay?"

Arthur looked as surprised as Gwen felt about her concern. She was still angry- more than angry. Furious. But her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

"I'm fine," he said, running a hand through his hair, "what's wrong with Merlin?"

_A lot of things,_ Gwen thought, and suddenly the anger was back. Maybe it was the exhaustion- it wasn't as all-consuming as before- but it was there. A lot of things that Arthur had done were wrong. She couldn't shake them off. She couldn't just forget them and move on.

She shook her head. She couldn't be thinking about her feelings surrounding Arthur now. This encounter needed to be quick and to the point.

"The collar," she said, "you need to persuade the jewelsmith to take it off of him."

The king didn't look at all surprised by the request, but he did look apologetic.

"I have already spoken to the jewelsmith," he said.

That got Gwen's attention.

"What?" She asked.

"I've already spoken to the jewelsmith. I went down and spoke to him yesterday."

Gwen stared. "By yourself?"

He shrugged. "Yes," he made eye contact with Gwen for the first time. "I'm not heartless."

Gwen wanted to beg to differ, but decided it wasn't the time. "And what did he say?"

Arthur's face grew pained. "He said he couldn't help. He recommended removing the jewels, if possible, but he admitted he wasn't sure how to do that."

Gwen had to admit that this "quick encounter" was already longer than any conversations they'd had one-on-one in months. She squashed the thought away.

"Then do you have any ideas as to how to get the collar off? Or remove the jewels."

Arthur shook his head. "No."

"Then what use are you?" She snapped. Arthur flinched.

Gwen took a moment to compose herself. _Stay focused. _"Do you know how to contact Iseldir again?"

His eyes widened. "I hadn't thought of that."

She ignored his words. "Well, do you?"

"No. He came to me in the woods and disappeared afterwards." He slumped further down, "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"That's it, then." She whispered, more to herself than to Arthur. "That's all I have."

They both stood silently, motionless in the doorway.

"Guinevere?" Arthur, who was once again staring at the ground, asked.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

Gwen sighed. "You should be." She hugged her arms around herself. "But that's not enough."

"What will be?"

Gwen looked away, staring at the point where the hallway split and continued out of her sight. "I don't know."

Silence fell again.

"You could-" Arthur cut himself off. "Nevermind."

"I could what?"

He scratched the back of his neck.

"You could look for him. It has only been a few days, he might still be in Camelot. I can send a knight to search the woods-"

"Who is going to look for a man who might have already disappeared?" But even as she said it, she knew the answer.

So did Arthur.

"You can ask Gwaine."

* * *

When the physician's door creaked open hours later, Gaius woke with a start. He had fallen asleep over his books; the candle had gone out. A quick glance at the window showed that it was still dark- The cloth was that special shade of purple-black reserved for the very middle of the night.

Gaius looked at the source of the noise just as a giant, looming figure entered the room.

"Hello?" Gaius whispered, but the figure didn't seem to hear him. Instead, it crept across the floor with silent, booted feet towards Merlin.

An uneasy feeling filled Gaius's throat.

The figure knelt and reached out.

"Stay away from him!" Gaius shouted, and the figure jumped and cursed, spinning to look at him with wide eyes.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Sir Percival?" He leaned down to relight the candle, "What do you think you are doing?"

Percival, who looked slightly embarrassed, took a step away from the bed. "I just- Gwen took Gwaine," he muttered, as if that answered anything.

"For what purpose?"

Percival took a seat on the stool beside the cot. "She sent him off to find Iseldir."

"Oh... And you? What are you doing here?"

"I thought…" he looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact, "If Gwen was off helping Gwaine pack, and Gwaine was gone, and you were asleep, then Merlin would be-"

"Vulnerable?" Gaius blurted without thinking.

Percival looked startled. "Alone."

"Ah," It was Gaius's turn to feel embarrassed. Of course Percival would visit late at night and early in the morning, when nobody else was around. He didn't need the noise of others, or the bustle of the day. And if Merlin woke up, he would be there.

"I'm sorry, I can go if you'd like me to," the knight said, standing and moving towards the door.

"No, no. Please stay. It would be a relief to go to bed knowing someone is watching over him. Stay as long you would like."

Percival nodded his response, then sat down.

Gaius watched them for a moment, then retreated to Merlin's room to get a few hours of rest.

Percival sat and watched Merlin breathe.

* * *

"Gaius," Gwen called, "this burn doesn't seem to be healing."

Percival, who had fallen asleep at Merlin's side at some point during the night, blearily lifted his head from his folded arms.

Gwen was standing on the other side of the cot, in the process of re-wrapping the bandages on Merlin's legs. Gaius shuffled into view and looked at the burn Gwen was pointing to. The physician sighed. "He isn't eating," he said. "It takes energy to heal, and he just... doesn't have that energy."

Gwen swallowed and continued to wrap the bandages around Merlin's leg. Gaius's voice had a note of finality to it. It was one thing for Merlin to die, and another to watch their friend slowly waste away into nothing as they stood by helplessly.

Percival stood and went to the fire, where there was a pot of broth already warming. There was always a pot of broth warming, it seemed. His face was carefully neutral as he poured some into a bowl and sat beside Merlin.

"He isn't going to die like this." He said, lifting Merlin's limp form into his lap. Keeping Merlin's head upright with the crook of his elbow, he slowly lifted a spoonful of soup to Merlin's lips and tipped it in. He cringed when Merlin coughed and soup spilled down his cheeks.

Gwen watched for a moment as Percival carefully fed Merlin another spoonful. This time, he swallowed.

"The collar only weakened him before, but in his current state I doubt he will be strong enough to wake up while it is on, even with the food," Gaius said. Percival didn't spare him a glance.

"Then what do you suggest? I stop trying?"

"I am only saying to not get your hopes up, if his collar remains then there is truly nothing we can do."

Percival scowled and coaxed more soup down the unconscious warlock's throat. "I'm not giving up on him," he muttered, and there was no way to miss the accusation in his tone.

"I did not mean it like that," Gaius said, "I will do whatever it takes to keep him alive."

Percival nodded. "I know."

Gwen was partially listening to the conversation, but most of her attention was on Merlin eating. Watching his throat as he swallowed, she winced. The skin around the edge of the collar was blistered and agitated, and she didn't know if it was from the constant irritation of something being around his neck, or because the collar itself had burning properties. Either way, it looked entirely uncomfortable.

"Gaius?" Gwen asked, interrupting the tense conversation already going on above her head, "What are these burns from?" She motioned towards the blistering. "Are they from the collar moving, or the iron itself?"

Gaius looked at the marks. "A little of both, I'm afraid," he said.

"Why have I only just noticed them? Have they been there all along?"

Gaius leaned closer. "They seem to be relatively fresh," he said, sighing, "I guess it was going to happen eventually. I'm surprised the collar did not cause irritation sooner."

Gwen hummed and watched Merlin swallow again. Now that she was watching for it, she noticed that each time his throat moved, the collar shifted a little, causing the inflammation. Of course she hadn't noticed it before- the collar hadn't been moving before.

An idea struck her.

"The collar doesn't adapt to the wearer at all, does it?" She asked.

Gaius look puzzled, but shook his head. "No, it is a fixed size. Why?"

Instead of answering, Gwen stood up and moved towards Gaius's table. Rummaging through a drawer for a moment, she retrieved a set of pliers, the kind Gaius used in tooth extraction, and settled herself in front of Merlin.

"Can I see him?" She asked. Percival set down the soup and shifted the sorcerer's weight so that he was facing Gwen. "No, no. His neck."

The knight paused for a moment, but then complied, laying Merlin's head in Gwen's lap while the rest of his body stayed in his.

Gwen tilted Merlin's head to the side, ignoring the gash on his face that had only barely scabbed over in favor of focusing on the collar.

"What are you doing?" The knight asked, watching her. Gaius moved to get a better look.

Gwen winced as she gently pressed her fingers against the skin next to the collar. The muscles in Merlin's neck twitched at the contact, but she continued, working one of her fingers around the edge before pressing down. Merlin made a breathy noise in his throat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, then slipped a finger underneath the collar. Everyone in the room made a few surprised noises. The collar had been assumed skintight and impenetrable until that moment.

Merlin made another noise and Gwen paused. She could feel the roughness of the stones beneath her fingertip, and felt a rush of sympathy. The collar must have been extremely uncomfortable to wear. She took a deep breath.

Percival and Gaius watched as, to their surprise, Gwen removed her fingers and slid the pliers into the same spot. Fiddling around with them for a moment, she closed her eyes. She was trying to visualize what the pliers were touching, and after a few tense moments she opened her eyes and pulled the pliers back out. She dropped the object she was holding into her hand, smiling.

There, in her palm, was a tiny shard of ruby.

"The collar was moving," she said, "so I thought that there must be some space that wasn't there before."

There was a beat where nobody was sure how to react, and then,

"Guinevere! You are a genius!" Gaius exclaimed, snatching the ruby from her palm. Gwen didn't even blush at the compliment. She was too focused on Merlin. "Do you think you could get any more?" Gaius asked, laying the jewel in a shallow tin on his table.

Gwen looked at Merlin. The ruby had scratched the blistered skin as she had pulled it out, and it was now bleeding sluggishly, dripping onto the collar. "I think so," she said, and began to work.

Three hours later, Gwen's fingers were slicked with blood- both hers and Merlin's- but she had managed to remove a small pile of various stones and jewels. They lay in a tin by her side, sparkling beneath a layer of crusted blood and pus. She shuddered.

"That's all I can get," she said, dropping an emerald into the pile, "The rest won't budge."

Gaius looked at the fruition of her efforts. "There must be at least twenty stones here," he said, sorting them absently, "It's no wonder he is so weak."

Gwen laid the pliers down and gently shifted Merlin back onto Percival's lap.

"But is it enough?" Gwen asked, "there are still some that I couldn't move."

Gaius sifted through the jewels. "I think you have gotten plenty, Guinevere."

She shook her head. "I don't know."

They all took a moment to look at the collar that still rested against Merlin's neck. The removal of the jewels had loosened it significantly enough that it was now resting over the hollow of his throat, just above his prominent clavicles. There was a ring of red, raw skin where the collar had been cinched so tightly before. If they looked closely enough, they could even see the imprints of a few of the stones.

"Could we get at the lock now?" Gwen asked.

Gaius lifted the collar to see how much space he had. "Perhaps..."

He went to a drawer and pulled out a long pin. "I am no locksmith," he said, looking at the collar again in order to locate the lock, "but I have picked a few locks in my time."

He moved to fit the tool into the lock, but almost immediately discovered there wasn't enough room for even the finest picks. A pair of pliers was about all that could fit. He shook his head. "Damn it all to Hell," he muttered.

"But we're so close!" Gwen shouted, "it's _right there!"_

"We're going to have to wait and hope we have done enough." Gaius said, but his fingers were trembling.

"This is ridiculous. Surely we can get smaller tools-"

"I am sorry, Guinevere, but there is no other option," Gaius ground out, obviously just as frustrated as Gwen.

"We can hope Gwaine returns with Iseldir." Percival whispered.

"Yes," Gaius said, "and that he will help once he comes."

But until then, they would have to wait.

* * *

For the next few hours, Gwen and Percival took turns watching Merlin while Gaius dealt with the other patients he had been putting off.

The door slammed open and closed over and over as men and women shuffled in and out, sneezing and coughing and asking for help. It was dizzying at first, but soon they grew used to the noise and movement. They didn't even notice when the door opened to reveal not a patient, but a guard.

Owain looked worse than Arthur had as he shuffled into the physician's quarters with his head bowed and hands trembling. Gwen wondered if he had even gone home or slept in a bed since they had last crossed paths. He refused to make eye contact with anybody.

"Kid?" he whispered when he saw Merlin in his cocoon of blankets and bandages, "it's me."

Merlin flinched at the sound of his voice and whined before lying still again. And although Percival and Gwen were ecstatic at the first sign of life they'd seen from Merlin all day, Owain simply hunched down further and left.

With the small burst of life came other improvements. Merlin's breathing began to ease; the removal of most of the jewels allowed his lungs to move normally again. The broken and bruised ribs meant they still stuttered, but each breath was deeper than the last. His pulse quickened as well, growing stronger as they watched. For the first time in a very long time, there seemed to be some hope on the horizon.

At noon, Gaius looked Merlin over and announced that his fever had broken.

"So the iron dust gone is from his system?" Gwen asked. Gaius nodded.

"Yes."

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

* * *

**Were you getting frustrated with those jewels? Yeah, so was I.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you to everybody who messaged and commented and kicked my ass back into gear. I moved recently and kind of lost the ability to focus on the story. But I'm back!**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

By late that evening, Percival had left to go on patrol and Gaius had left to attend a birth in the lower town, leaving Gwen in charge of the unconscious Merlin. She spent the hours of waning light alternating between holding his bony hand and flipping through Gaius's dog-eared volumes in hopes of finding a way to remove the collar. As night approached without any improvement, Gwen stared at the ever-darkened windows and fought back tears.

On the other side of the castle, Arthur, not for the first time, lay in his bed unable to sleep. He had grown familiar with the patterns of his canopy in the moonlight, though he'd never truly appreciated them. He'd always been searching for a solution to a problem, or playing events out over and over again. He'd always had an answer, until now.

He rolled onto his side, tearing his eyes away from the canopy in favor of looking out the window. It seemed wrong, somehow, that the view from his window hadn't changed since the night that Iseldir had appeared; so many other things had.

Merlin was no longer an enemy of the crown, nor was he a prisoner, yet he might not live to know it. Gwaine was riding out to look for a Druidian leader per orders from Arthur himself, and that was just a start. Even the very essence of magic had been called into question.

And yet, the moonlight-speckled trees remained the same.

Arthur closed his eyes and let a breath out from his nose. He needed to sleep. He needed Merlin to be alright. He needed to stop Morgana. He needed to fix the mess he had made. He needed to make a plan to do all of those things-

But he knew nothing.

He twisted in his sheets, burying his face in his pillow. He stared at the blank darkness in front of his eyes and thought of Merlin, languishing in that cell for weeks, starving, cold, in pain. How much could a single man take? How could Arthur possibly fix anything that he'd done? He closed his eyes, and Merlin's voice filled his head.

_It was the second day. Merlin was officially dead, had been dead for nearly twenty-four hours now. Initially, Arthur had been worried when Merlin didn't wake up immediately after the collar was put on him, but the guards had just reported that Merlin was beginning to regain consciousness in the cell, and Arthur knew he needed to be there._

_As he discreetly made his way to the dungeons, Arthur felt his nerves tingling with anticipation. Never before had he felt fearful of his manservant. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the following encounter; it would be so easy to slip back into normalcy, for the sorcerer to deceive him as he had for so many years before._

_He arrived at the dungeons more quickly than he had wanted, still partially unprepared. There were two guards waiting for his arrival._

_"Sire."_

_The head guard, the one that had been appointed as incharge of the sorcerer's interrogation, took a step forward. He was standing at the entrance to the lower dungeons, a ring of keys held loosely in his gloved fist._

_Arthur took a moment to regain his composure, then inclined his head in response. The guard continued, _

"_The sorcerer began to stir only a few minutes ago, sire. He should awaken very soon, if he has not already."_

_Arthur once again nodded and tried to ignore the whirl of anxiety in his chest._

"_Please, follow me."_

_Arthur followed._

_He had never liked the dungeons as a child, and he could honestly say that that had yet to change. The smell, the cold stones, the deep shadows; none of it made Arthur the least bit comfortable. Sure, he supposed that was basically the point of a dungeon, but it still didn't make him feel any better. The lower dungeons were always the worst, too. Arthur didn't want to think about how uncomfortable it would be to live in them. Then again, he felt a strange pang of satisfaction thinking about Merlin living in them, so perhaps they weren't so bad after all._

_Arthur was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn't realize the guard had stopped until he nearly walked into him. He let out a grunt of surprise and came to a halt._

"_Just in here, sire," the guard said softly, and Arthur realized they were standing before a cell. Merlin's cell. The very cell Arthur had ordered him into the day before. _

_He peered inside._

_There was the sorcerer, curled into a tight ball in the back corner, against the wall. His pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness, and it made Arthur's head spin, how something so small could hold so much evil inside of it. Arthur shuddered. And to think he would have trusted the creature with his life only days ago..._

_The sorcerer moved, curling further into itself in an attempt to banish the cold of the cell. Arthur couldn't stop the look of disgust that flitted across his features. He wished the dungeons were colder._

_A groan came through the bars, and with a start Arthur realized he didn't have a plan, didn't know how to begin an interrogation on a person whom he had trusted so thoroughly. What was he supposed to say? He turned towards the guards._

"_You are dismissed," he said, and then, "leave the keys."_

_The guards looked like they wanted to protest, but a single look from Arthur had them fleeing without comment. He watched them leave before turning his attention back onto the cell and the prisoner within._

_Perhaps he could use this... anxiety to his advantage. Even if Merlin was an evil sorcerer, he could surely experience some kind of fear, especially in the face of such a situation, bound as he was. If Arthur felt anxious, then it must be the same the other way around. And where there was fear, there was also hope. Arthur could utilize the trust they used to share, bend it to his advantage. What was a better way to break a man than to give him hope and take it away? If nothing else, it was a start, at least._

_He breathed. He had a plan, even if it was a flimsy one, and just in time, too. Merlin was waking up, moving in his cell, turning his face towards the door. His voice was hoarse when he spoke._

"_Wh-what-?" He twisted to look at the ceiling, the stone walls, and then back at the bars. His eyes fell on Arthur, wide and impossibly blue. "Arthur?"_

_Arthur looked down the bridge of his nose, turning his head up at the eye contact. Merlin's confusion deepened, and he went to sit up, his arms shaking to support his weight. Of course he would be confused. He'd been unconscious the moment the collar had closed._

_He managed to prop himself up against the far wall, and his hands instantly went up to his neck, a hiss of pain escaping through his clenched teeth._

"_Arthur, what's going on? Why am I here? Why-"_

_His fingers met the collar, and realization dawned on his face. Realization and fear. He looked at Arthur again._

"_I-I can explain," he started, but Arthur held up a hand to silence him._

"_I do not wish to hear an explanation," he said, and then he began to carry out his plan. Swallowing down his disgust, he lifted the keys and unlocked the cell door, stepping in quickly before shutting it behind him, unlocked. God, his lip nearly curled at the show of hope and relief that filled the creature's face._

"_You don't?" Merlin went to stand up and look Arthur in the eye, but only managed to get into a squatting position before giving up and leaning against the wall again. He tried to muster up a smile, the deceitful little runt. "Think you could take this off, then?" He asked, motioning towards the collar. "I can't look you in the eye from down here."_

_Arthur wanted to shout "never" and flee the room, to leave the sorcerer to rot. But instead he took a deep breath. He needed to give the creature hope. If he ruined it now the sorcerer would shut down. "I don't think that is an option right now, mate." The last word tasted foul on his tongue._

"_Why not?"_

"_Because things are complicated. You're a known sorcerer."_

_Merlin twisted suddenly to look at the part of the wall where the upper dungeons had a window, but was met with dark brick instead. "What time is it?" he asked frantically, "How long have I been out?"_

"_Twenty-four hours. It's morning."_

_Merlin paled. "Can I leave? Are you going to kill me?"_

_His voice sounded so small, a tiny bit of Arthur nearly pitied him. Everything was afraid to die._

"_No."_

"_No, what?"_

"_You can't leave," Arthur said, and the servant looked sick, "But I am not going to kill you." The amount of relief that radiated from the man was palpable._

"_Then what… why am I stuck here?"_

"_I'll come back," Arthur said, trying to dodge the questions, and a part of him even believed it. Merlin's eyes widened._

"_Arthur, you can't just leave me down here."_

_Arthur's composure slipped a bit. "You are a known sorcerer. I cannot allow you to leave."_

_Merlin's brow crumpled in confusion at the sudden coldness in tone. The king scrambled to recover the facade._

"_You know that the people fear you. If I release you now, there will be chaos in Camelot."_

"_But-" Merlin's eyes traveled around the cell, taking in the stone and dirt. He wrapped his arms around himself, and Arthur had a brief moment to realize his jacket had been confiscated at some point between now and when the collar had been placed on him._

"_I'll be back. I promise. Just hold on."_

_Arthur stood to leave and found an odd sort of satisfaction when Merlin tried and failed to follow. The collar had worked faster than he had hoped for._

"_Please," he said from the back of the cell where he had yet to move from, "Don't do this, Arthur."_

_Arthur closed and locked the door behind him._

"_Just wait," he said, retreating down the hallway, "I'll be back."_

_And then he was gone, handing the keys to the guard._

"_Prepare him for interrogation," he muttered. And if he had felt any remorse before, it all disappeared as he made his way back up the stairs, the sounds of chains rattling behind him._


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello! I'm not gone! Just sidetracked! Enjoy this filler chapter as I prepare myself for the events that come next!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

_Arthur closed and locked the door behind him._

"_Just wait," he said, retreating down the hallway, "I'll be back."_

_And then he was gone, handing the keys to the guard._

"_Prepare him for interrogation," he muttered. And if he had felt any remorse before, it all disappeared as he made his way back up the stairs, the sounds of chains rattling behind him._

* * *

Arthur woke suddenly to find that it was morning. He was breathing hard, cold sweat beading across his brow and running down his back as if he had just come out of a nightmare. And it had been a nightmare; it was just a nightmare that had actually happened. He shuddered and pulled the blankets from his body. They were twisted around his torso tightly, the sheets bunched against his lower back; small discomforts that seemed smaller after dreaming of Merlin. He pushed his legs over the side of the bed and stared at his feet, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

He needed to get up.

He needed to prepare for Morgana.

He needed Merlin to be okay.

He needed more time.

A loud knock made Arthur jump. He looked at the heavy wooden door and then around his room, his eyes landing on a shirt and trousers. "Just a moment," he mumbled, loud enough for the visitor to hear. The knock came again.

Arthur took a deep breath and opened the door, wiping a hand across his sweaty cheeks, tucking his tunic into a belt. Leon stood in the doorway, his helmet under his elbow, still in full armor.

"We have bad news, sire," he said without pretext. Arthur's blood ran cold. Merlin was dead. He knew it.

"There has been movement in the east. It is believed to be an army."

Arthur didn't comprehend. Merlin had nothing to do with an army, did he?

"Sire?"

Arthur looked up, realizing Leon had continued to speak.

"Hm?"

"The army is thought to belong to Morgana. The plans you overheard seem to be true."

Arthur groaned, things snapping into place. Morgana was on the move.

"It is believed that we have ten days, give or take, before she reaches Camelot." Leon hesitated then, his face looking worried, "Sire, if she strikes, it will be war. There is no stopping that."

Arthur nodded. "I will prepare the knights." He turned to close the door, but Leon stopped him.

"Sire, there is more."

Arthur's heart dropped. "What?"

"The army is believed to be made up of not only armed men, but also sorcerers. Prepare your knights for that."

"...so we have no chance."

Leon's neutral face slipped. "Prepare them."

Arthur nodded, his eyes focused on something far away. "I understand."

Leon gave him a half smile. "Good day, sire."

The door closed, and Arthur sunk onto the edge of his bed, returning his head to his hands.

So this was it.

He pulled his boots on slowly, taking his time with the laces. He kept glancing at the window, at the swaying trees and wispy white clouds running across the blue sky, as if Morgana's army would come crashing over the hillside any moment and rain hellfire over the kingdom. But no, he knew he had time-not much, but some- and he was going to use it.

He stood up to open the door, taking deep breaths as he lay his hand on the handle. Gods, he was so tired. He wanted to crawl back into his bed and curl under the covers and wake up when everything was alright again. Not that anything could ever be right again, at least not really, not with Merlin unconscious in Gaius's chambers and blood on Owain's gloves. Things couldn't be right when Gwaine was off on his own in a desperate search to find a druidian leader and Gwen was no longer speaking to her own husband. Nothing could really be alright when everything was so utterly wrong, when everything had been destroyed by a singular king bent by anger and fear.

But he couldn't think like that. He had a war to prepare for.

With that in mind, Arthur summoned the strength to pull the door open and step out into the hall.

He was immediately overcome with vertigo, as the sunlight of the morning streamed in and illuminated the bustle of servants, moving with laundry and dirty dishes and cleaning rags. The light in the stone hall was impossible compared to the darkness of his room and dreams. Nobody suspected anything was amiss, just as they had for last month.

Steeling himself, he took a few more steps into the hallway and entered the fray.

* * *

He arrived at Gaius's chambers more than a little nervous, and stood outside the door, breathing slowly. He could hear Gwen and Gaius inside, and there was no doubt Percival was there as well. It seemed that the most popular spot to be when people were not busy was with Merlin. Even unconscious, people wanted to be in his company.

With not a small amount of effort, Arthur reached out and knocked on the door. Silence immediately fell within.

"May I come in?"

More silence. Then Gaius.

"Enter."

Arthur pushed open the door and took a step inside. Percival sat beside Merlin's cot. Gwen was standing near the fire, a ladle in hand. And Gaius was standing before his table, grinding herbs in a shallow basin.

As Arthur stood in the center of the room, they each surveyed him through cold eyes. Merlin lay very still and very pale in the bed, but he wasn't dirty anymore, or vomiting. At least there was that.

"I came to discuss a matter of high importance," the king said, and he pretended that his voice didn't shake.

Everybody continued to look at him emotionlessly, and Arthur vaguely thought that he was sick of being in this situation before continuing.

"Morgana is on the move," he said, "she will be here within ten days, and I need your help to prepare for the attack."

Gaius set aside his mortar and pestle and wiped his hands with a rag before throwing it down on the table.

Arthur hesitated. "The army is made of sorcerers and men."

"If it truly is Morgana, then we are already doomed," Gaius said, crossing his arms, "without Merlin there is no one who can defeat her."

"Surely, you don't believe that."

"No, I know that."

Silence stretched. Arthur glanced at the warlock lying beside Percival.

"Then what would you suggest we do?" Arthur said, and his voice grew louder. He was suddenly fed up, "Are we to give up before we've even started? Is that what you want? Morgana is coming, whether Merlin is awake or not, and we can either stand here-"

"Do _not _raise your voice at me!" Gaius exclaimed, effectively cutting Arthur off mid-sentence. "This is a problem that _you _created. If you hadn't spent so much time on tormenting Merlin, then maybe you would have noticed the _real _informant, or, better yet, perhaps you would have an effective army for fighting off a militia of sorcery! Now what would you have us do, sire? Face the army with our swords? With our fists? What solution are you looking for, coming into my quarters? Should you not be preparing your knights? I cannot help you. "

Arthur deflated. Wherever that burst of anger had come from, it was gone. Gaius was right, of course. He had no business being in Gaius's quarters when he had an army to prepare. He was king. He needed to pull himself together and start acting like one. Battles had been fought and won for years before Merlin's existence. He was not Camelot's last hope. Although…

Why did it feel like he was?

* * *

Gwaine's horse was agitated.

Tugging on the beast's reins, Gwaine paused in a clearing to gain his bearings. The wind had picked up suddenly in the night, and with it the horse seemed to grow less and less comfortable, slowing their progress. As it was, he was only a few miles into the forest, and he was already at a loss as to where to go next. He'd gone in the vague direction that Arthur had gone the night Merlin had been freed, but there was no trail nor sign that anybody had been there at all, and finding Iseldir seemed to be an impossible task.

His horse huffed and shook its head, stamping the ground in agitation, and Gwaine ran his hand against her neck. If it had been for anybody besides Merlin, he would have given up finding Iseldir hours ago. Or, better yet, not have even gone in the first place. How was he supposed to find a druid who could magic himself to any part of the world with just a thought? It didn't seem plausible. But then, Gwaine had done a lot of impossible things. He was a knight, for goodness sake, and was friends with a warlock and a king, amongst other beasts he'd met in taverns and trails. Those had all been by accident, of course, but the impossibility was the same.

The wind blew harder, and Gwaine kicked his horse into motion once again.

He would not give up.

* * *

Owain once again stood on the wall overlooking the town, his mind elsewhere. He kept fingering the gloves in his pocket. The weather was not as mild as it had been in the last few weeks, but he could not bring himself to put them on. A part of him wanted to buy new ones, but another part told him they were a reminder of what he had done. So they stayed in his pocket.

Arthur had called a meeting that afternoon. Morgana was moving in with an army of sorcerers, and they were to prepare, whatever that meant. They all knew the odds were against them.

Owain thought back to Merlin, shivering and flinching on the cot at the sound of the guard's voice. Percival and Gwen had seemed so excited, as if Owain had done something to help the kid. He didn't understand, though. They should be angry at him. Heaven knows he was the one who had put Merlin in such a state, where even flinching was something to be celebrated. He had resolved to help when he helped Arthur bring him out of the dungeons, but the reaction in the physician's quarters the day before proved that maybe he should just stay away. He didn't blame Merlin for being afraid of his voice. He had hoped otherwise, of course, but had never entertained the thought that what he had hoped would truly happen. And it hadn't.

And now things were just worse. Even though the knights and most of Camelot didn't know it, the one person who would have saved them had been languishing in the dungeons for weeks. And Owain truly believed that Merlin could have saved them, if he were conscious. The way he had spoken of his powers in his rare moments of lucidity, during the earlier parts of interrogation, backed that up strongly. Merlin would have helped.

But not now.

Owain sat heavily on the wall and tugged the glove out of his pocket, worrying it between his fingers. It really was getting colder.

* * *

Gasping as cold water suddenly hit his cheek, Gwaine looked up at the sky. Grey clouds dimmed the forest until it was nearly as dark as night, and he could sense that it was just the beginning of a full-on downpour. Shivering, he settled more deeply into the saddle, but it did little as the clouds opened up above him.

Shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, he tried to gauge how far he'd traveled, but when he thought about how fruitless all of those miles had been, he stopped trying to count. It only discouraged him.

Glancing at the sky again, he realized that it would soon be impossible to see anything. Halting his horse, he spied a large boulder with a shallow alcove. Not the best camp, he thought, but he'd certainly slept in worse. Dismounting his horse, and tying her to a nearby tree, he settled in for the night, laying his bedroll on the damp earth beneath the alcove and shimmying under it. The rock face was a few inches from his nose, but it was dry enough, and Gwaine found his thoughts wandering to Merlin again.

He wondered if he was alright. He thought that maybe he would feel if he wasn't, but then the only thing worse for Merlin right now would be if he stopped breathing, and Gwaine refused to think about that.

With his mind still turning, Gwaine fell asleep listening to the rain pounding on the rock above him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys! New chapter! **

**Guess what? Last week was the one-year anniversary since I published the first chapter of this story! Hurray! To celebrate, I actually updated in a timely manner! And I've been meaning to ask: What are people's thoughts on what is going to happen next in this story? I'm curious.**

**Enjoy! **

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

Glancing at the sky again, he realized that it would soon be impossible to see anything. Halting his horse, he spied a large boulder with a shallow alcove. Not the best camp, he thought, but he'd certainly slept in worse. Dismounting his horse, and tying her to a nearby tree, he settled in for the night, laying his bedroll on the damp earth beneath the alcove and shimmying under it. The rock face was a few inches from his nose, but it was dry enough, and Gwaine found his thoughts wandering to Merlin again.

He wondered if he was alright. He thought that maybe he would feel if he wasn't, but then the only thing worse for Merlin right now would be if he stopped breathing, and Gwaine refused to think about that.

With his mind still turning, Gwaine fell asleep listening to the rain pounding on the rock above him.

* * *

The next time Gwaine opened his eyes, it was to the sound of his horse snorting outside his stone shelter. The initial confusion of waking up somewhere unfamiliar was more of a comfort than a fear; he was used to it. What he did not like, however, was the trapped feeling that came with being disadvantaged. And here, lying under a rock with his horse excited outside, he was just about as disadvantaged as he could be.

Turning his head slowly, the knight could see his horse's hooves as they stamped at the muddy ground. It was still raining, and Gwaine grimly noted that some of it was starting to breach his small shelter, running in rivulets only to be absorbed by his bedroll. Perhaps it was the storm that had caused his horse to react in such a way- wasn't that thunder rumbling in the distance? Nevertheless, he pressed his hands against the rock, twisted his body out of the alcove, and knelt in the mud, his hand hovering over his blade.

The morning was as gray as twilight, the sky glowing faintly as dark clouds shifted overhead and poured their contents into the forest. His horse was still tied to the same tree as she had been the night before.

It was, surprisingly, empty. There was nothing that could have spooked the horse so thoroughly, yet she was still snorting and stamping, tossing her wet mane and flicking her tail. Gwaine approached her slowly and gave a short whistle to get her attention, and her eyes rolled to look at him through the rain. Her movements slowed, but she still stamped her front hoof against the ground and stared into the forest, nickering softly. Gwaine stroked her nose and glanced in the direction she was looking, but still saw nothing.

"What's gotten into you?" He asked, gazing into the darkened forest, "you seein' something?"

The horse just snorted and nudged more forcefully into his hand. Gwaine sighed and stroked her nose again. Weather and agitated horse aside, Merlin was still in Camelot, and Gwaine still needed to find a Druidian leader in this blasted forest before it was too late. He wondered if there was a time limit, or just a vague deadline- had Gaius told anybody how long Merlin could last with that collar? Gwaine didn't want to entertain the thought, but what if he couldn't find Iseldir? Would Merlin survive? Would the collar be locked around his neck forever? Surely, they'd find a solution, with or without Iseldir- Gwaine just couldn't think of one at the moment.

But he was wasting his time. The longer he stood in this clearing, the further Iseldir could have gone-if he hadn't already magicked himself across the kingdom, which, Gwaine knew, was an entirely plausible scenario.

Shaking his bedroll out in a fruitless attempt to rid it of the mud, he packed and mounted his horse, heading further into the forest with Camelot at his back.

He'd barely made it to the other end of the clearing before the rain grew harder, pounding almost painfully against his shoulders. It bounced from the leaves of the trees into his eyes and beat against the flanks of his horse, which was still throwing its head in occasional agitation. Gwaine shook the water out of his eyes, but the trees blurred through the curtain of rain. He slid off his horse and lead it back to the boulder, where the rain was at least cut down by its bulk, and resolved to wait until the rain had slowed to continue his search.

* * *

Arthur was becoming desperate. He had given the knights their speeches, told them of the oncoming attack. He had told them about the sorcerers and although he hadn't given them their odds of winning a war like this, he could tell they knew they weren't good. He hoped they would train hard and fight hard, but a small part of him hoped they would spend time with their loved ones, if only a little, before the attack came.

In the meantime, he was somewhat at a loss of what he should do. He had visited Geoffrey in the library and pored over records detailing battles between sorcerers and men, and had even found an odd volume filled with the teachings of the high priestesses, but everything was coming to the same conclusion: without a sorcerer on their side, Camelot was doomed. And without a warlock's magic, Morgana would not be defeated.

He seemed to be stuck. His thoughts kept travelling back to Gaius's quarters, to Merlin on the bed, to that night Arthur's stupidity and fear had ruined everything. He wished he had never made that damn collar. He wished he had never seen Merlin call that dragon. He wished he had thought things through. Why hadn't he even given Merlin a chance before assigning him something that could really only be considered a death sentence?

He wanted to go back in time and plead with himself. He wanted to seize the collar from his own hands and shatter it against the floors of his chambers.

Most of all, he wanted Merlin to be alright.

* * *

"Gwen, could I use you over here for a moment?" Gaius's voice was tired. Gwen, who had been stoking the fire, looked up from her kneel and surveyed the physician. His hair was messy and his hands were slightly shaky with fatigue as he poured a few crushed herbs into a vial of water, corked it, and shook it violently. "There is a leak by the window. Is it possible you could place a bucket beneath it? We don't want people to be slipping." He motioned towards the window, where water was steadily seeping from the ceiling and dripping onto the floor. Gwen abandoned the fire and retrieved a bucket from the other side of the room, maneuvering it beneath the stream of water.

"Have you ever seen rain quite like this, Gaius?" she asked, listening to it howling outside and pounding against the walls. Gaius listened for a moment, cocking his head to the side.

"Indeed," he said after a moment, "I have. But it has not been for a long time."

"How long?" She was just talking now; anything to fill the oppressive silence that seemed to constantly hang over the room. She didn't think she could stand Merlin's wheezing anymore. To make matters worse, since Owain had come in and left, Merlin had started occasionally making pained noises in his sleep, and nobody knew if it was a good sign or a bad one.

"Decades," Gaius stated simply, "Since before the Purge."

"What does it mean?"

"Nothing. It's just the rain. We were due for another storm. Though I hope this doesn't put a damper on Gwaine's mission." He glanced at Merlin, who had made another whimpering gasp. "He needs to hurry."

Gwen shuffled over to Merlin and knelt beside him. The fever caused by the iron dust had broken long ago, but with the removal of some of the jewels, his body had begun to try to heal itself, leaving Merlin with another fever as his body finally began to recognize infection again. His hair was matted to his brow with sweat and his cheeks were flushed, though Gaius said that the fever posed no danger to him at the moment. It was a natural reaction while his body tried to sort itself out.

At least, that's what they hoped. Gwen placed her hand on his forehead. The fever wasn't particularly high, and it hadn't changed in hours, so she simply lay a damp cloth on the section of his chest that was not bandaged and another on his forehead before standing again and checking on the bucket below the leak. It was already a quarter of the way full, and Gwen resolved to continue to check it every few minutes as long as the rain continued.

Merlin whimpered again, and this time it happened to line up with the sound of thunder in the distance. It made him seem like a child frightened in his sleep, and Gwen knew if she had any more energy, she would have teared up at the sight. As it was, she just shook her head and went back to the fire.

* * *

Nearly three hours later, and Gwaine was once again leading his horse back to the boulder with a scowl. He had lost count of the amount of times the rain had slowed enough for him to remount and head off, only for it to suddenly pick up at an alarming rate when he was nearly out of the clearing. He was never going to make it anywhere with all of this stopping and starting, and he had long ago grown sick of the patch of muddy ground mother nature had seemingly chosen to banish him to. What kind of ridiculousness had lead him to standing in the same damn clearing for three hours, sopping wet and with a disobedient horse tethered to his wrist? He was simply not having it. Iseldir was probably hundreds of miles away, in another damn kingdom with his blasted magic and dry shoes (did Druids wear shoes? He didn't know.), living his life happily, totally unaware of the bloody rainstorm that was trapping a single knight in a clearing in a forest in the middle of Camelot.

Sighing, he sat down in the mud, too wet to care. The horse snorted and moved closer to the boulder, nuzzling Gwaine's hair. Gwaine pushed it away gently, his thoughts drifting to Merlin again. The horse nickered and nudged him in the shoulder. Gwaine ignored it, crossing his arms in front of his chest and drawing his knees up closer to his chin. The horse then gave another, much louder, snort and moved a little away from the boulder. Lightning flashed faintly, and the horse whinnied and stamped backwards, tossing its head upwards into the rain. Gwaine rolled his eyes. It had been thundering and lightning for the better part of the day, and he had thought the horse was used to it by now.

A clap of thunder, louder than any other, suddenly shook the clearing, and Gwaine gasped and placed his hands against the ground to study himself just as the horse reared,the whites of its eyes visible as another blinding bolt of lightning lit the forest. Gwaine jumped up to grab its reins, but only managed to slip in the mud as the horse let out an animalistic shriek and bolted into the forest.

"No!" Gwaine shouted, standing and sliding, chasing the horse in the dim grey. Another clap of thunder rolled through the rain and was almost immediately followed by a flash that lit up every blade of grass between the horse and the knight. Gwaine had only a moment to glimpse the muddy tail of his steed before it faded into the darkness again, disappearing into the gloom of the trees.

For a moment, he just stood there in shock. Then the reality hit him and he fell to the ground again, grasping fistfuls of mud from below him in anguish. He looked at the sky and shouted, cursing the rain and his horse and God, cursing Arthur and sorcery and Camelot. He cursed Iseldir and he cursed Merlin and he cursed himself, and then he slumped down, his energy spent. He stared into the storm and distantly wondered if he'd truly expected anything different.

There was another clap of thunder, quieter now, so Gwaine dejectedly scooted back to his rock and rested his shoulders against it. All of his supplies were on that horse. All of his food and equipment and clothes were bundled up and strapped to a beast that was now bolting through the forest, yet he was still in the same clearing, dripping with rain and mud. And he was no closer to finding Iseldir.

It felt like hours before the rain finally slowed enough for Gwaine to even consider getting up and looking for his horse. He was hoping that the rain had softened the ground enough by now to make tracking it easy. It was going to get dark very soon and he did not want to spend a night in his current state.

The rain was still falling softly as he reached the edge of the clearing. In spite of himself, he slowed as he got to it, expecting the rain to miraculously begin again, but it stayed steady. Laughing half-heartedly at his own paranoia, he looked down to see the prominent imprints of hooves sunk deep into the mud. No sooner had he started to follow them, however, when he heard a familiar whinny come from behind. Rolling his eyes, he spun towards the clearing-

Only to come face-to-face with a band of hooded strangers.


	18. Chapter 18

**Things are finally started to pick up, I hope. This is turning out so much longer than I wanted it to. Thank you to everybody who is still reading!**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

Previously...

* * *

No sooner had he started to follow them, however, when he heard a familiar whinny come from behind. Rolling his eyes, he spun towards the clearing-

Only to come face-to-face with a band of hooded strangers.

* * *

Gwaine stood, frozen, the rain coming down in sheets. Somehow, the strangers seemed untouched by the rain; the droplets falling around them but not touching them, their dark cloaks not even dampened by the storm. Gwaine immediately sensed magic, and he forced himself to stay calm. Wasn't this what he had been looking for?

"Sir Gwaine," the tallest of the hooded figures stepped forward, the rest remaining behind.

Gwaine's mouth fell open. The hooded figure chuckled and brought his hands up to remove his hood, revealing a lined face and a shock of curly gray hair. In response, the rest of the group did the same, and Gwaine was shocked to see that half of the group, maybe five or six people in total, possessed the glowing eyes of a sorcerer. Gwaine took a moment to wonder at what kind of spell they were casting, but quickly moved his attention back to the leader. Without any introduction, Gwaine knew precisely who it was he was addressing.

"Iseldir."

The Druid smiled and inclined his head. Gwaine, not knowing what, exactly, he should do in the presence of such a powerful leader, bowed slightly. The leader shook his head.

"Do not bow to me, Sir Gwaine, for we have more pressing matters at hand."

Gwaine straightened. Obviously, this was going better than he had hoped. Better get right to it, then. "Merlin-"

"-is in trouble," Iseldir finished, and the group of druids shifted uncomfortably, "We know. We can sense it."

"Then you will help?" Gwaine's voice cracked; this was appearing to be infinitely easier than he had hoped.

Iseldir put his hands up, his smile disappearing. "We cannot deny Emrys in his time of need," he said, "but I must ensure my people's safety first."

"Yes, yes!" Gwaine burst, "of course! You are all welcome to Camelot. The king himself sent me-"

Iseldir cut him off. "It is not the king I am worried about. As I understand, there are greater threats to Camelot than a single king's stupidity."

Gwaine shook his head. "I don't understand."

Iseldir turned to look at the band of druids behind him. With urgency, one took a step forward, a young woman with pale green eyes. Her brown hair tumbled down her back, bone dry. Gwaine surveyed her warily.

"Morgana-" she said quietly. Her wide eyes flashed gold and she seemed to stare straight through Gwaine as she spoke, "Her troops grow tired."

Iseldir nodded and placed his hands on the young woman's shoulders. "This is Linona. She is our most powerful Seer."

Gwaine looked at her, enchanted by her beauty and wide, staring eyes. "What does she see?"

Iseldir tightened his grip on her shoulders before releasing them suddenly.

"I see Morgana," she said, blinking the dazed look away from her pupils, "And I see Emrys." She leaned in close, her eyes inches from his face, "And I see you."

Iseldir took over. "Thank you, Linona," he said, ushering her to the back of the group, where her eyes began to glow again. He then turned towards Gwaine:

"Linona can do the magic of a scryer without an object. She has been watching Camelot for weeks now. She is how I knew where to find Arthur, and how I knew to look for you. And she is how I know that Morgana is on her way to Camelot, intent on stealing the crown."

Gwaine paled.

"Do not worry, Sir Gwaine. We have stalled her for now. Long enough to see Emrys, at the very least. But I need your solemn oath that no harm will befall my people if we are to enter Camelot, and that any magic we practice will go unpunished."

Gwaine nodded. "Of course, sir. There will be no retributions for the magic you practice within Camelot's walls. I swear to it."

"Then we shall come."

Gwaine couldn't hide his relieved smile. There was, however, something that was still bugging him. "May I ask you a question, then, sir? Before we begin our trip back?" At Iseldir's nod, Gwaine continued, "How did such a small group of you manage to stall an entire army?"

The group of Druids whose eyes were still glowing each cracked a smile. Iseldir gave them a knowing glance and laid his hands, palm-up, to catch some of the rain that was still steadily falling around them. Not a single drop touched his skin.

"Never underestimate the power of bad weather," he said, as Gwaine's horse trotted into the clearing.

* * *

The moment Gwaine had joined the Druids, the rain stopped. Or, at least it stopped falling on him, which was a blessing in and of itself. His clothes were still a little damp, but even most of that problem had been solved by the druids. Plodding along with his horse in tow, Gwaine wondered what it must be like to have so much power. He started to think about the amount of convenience it must have been for Merlin, but stopped himself when he realized what it had ultimately lead to. Instead, he marvelled at how much prettier the rain was when it wasn't in his eyes and dripping down his face.

They walked in silence for the better part of half an hour before Iseldir finally broke it.

"Sir Gwaine," he said, walking slightly ahead of the group. Gwaine hummed in response, still in awe of the situation he had found himself in.

Iseldir continued, "We are aware that Emrys is in trouble, but given the nature of his magic and his no doubt declining health, we have been unable to contact him further. What are the extent of his injuries? Are you aware of his current condition?"

Gwaine looked sharply at Iseldir, his wonderment gone. This was the part he had dreaded.

"He's, uh…" he took a moment to run his hand through his wet hair, trying to find the words, "He ain't doing too great."

He looked Iseldir in the eye. The Druid looked worried and a little sad at the revelation, but not surprised.

"That was to be expected. From Linona's descriptions and what I could gather, we weren't expecting him to be in good condition."

"Then why didn't you come sooner?"

"We did not want to approach the castle. We feared in doing so, we may worsen the situation even further."

Gwaine nodded, staring straight ahead. They were closer to Camelot now.

"It's the collar."

Iseldir raised his eyebrows. "The collar?"

Gwaine winced and nodded. "We've tried everything, but we can't get it off. Not even the jewelsmith knew how."

Iseldir's mouth was a grim line. "I see. And this is a magic suppressing collar, I imagine?"

Gwaine nodded silently. Iseldir looked at the sky for a moment, as if searching for something. "Then we must get there quickly. A creature of magic cannot survive with a collar like that on it for very long, and I fear we may already be too late to remove it."

Gwaine didn't respond. He was too busy picturing Merlin, living the rest of his life with a piece of iron around his neck. What would that do to his mental state, being forced to show the mark of a prisoner for the rest of his days? How would he cope, if he survived at all? He didn't want to think about it.

The group continued their slow walk, the rain falling around them.

Their pace was so slow, in fact, that Gwaine worried it would take them days to reach the castle. How long could a little rain hold off Morgana? And how long could a collar stay around a warlock's neck before it was too late to take it off? Shouldn't they be moving faster? He was about to voice his opinion when a shout from the back of the druid group caught his attention. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he followed their line of sight until his eyes came to rest on the tower of Camelot's castle rising from the tree line.

"How-?" He began, but stopped when he saw Iseldir's amusement. It was magic, of course. The same magic that was keeping them dry and making their eyes burn gold had must have moved their pace to an impossible speed. Shaking his head, Gwaine lead the small group towards Camelot's gates.

As they arrived, the guards stopped them, glancing suspiciously at the Druid's glowing eyes.

"They are not allowed within the castle," one spoke. The other nodded behind him. Gwaine's brow furrowed.

"Now listen here," he said, leaning in close to the guards, "I am to escort these people into the castle by orders of the king himself, and to defy me is to defy king Arthur."

The guards didn't seem convinced.

"And how do we know you are following the king's orders?"

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Ask him!"

"We cannot leave our post."

Gwaine threw his hands up into the air. The druids looked at him apologetically.

"Gwaine?!"

The knight turned at the sound of his name to see Owain approaching, lapong from the wall he had apparently been sitting on. He let out a breath of relief.

"Sir Owain," he said, nodding. The head guard nodded back.

"What is the problem?"

Gwaine nodded towards the guards, then to the druids at his back. "I need to have passage into the castle."

Owain looked at the druids. Then, in a whisper:

"Does this have anything to do with the kid?"

Gwaine nodded gravely. Owain took a step back. "Let them through!" He announced, ushering the guards back. They let out a few muted protests, but didn't stop them as Gwaine and the group walked into the castle.

They arrived at Gaius's quarters to a scene of chaos.

* * *

"Gaius?!" Gwen's voice rang out, echoing off of the vials of potions and books on the shelves around her. Before her, Merlin was on the cot, thrashing against his blankets, tearing the bandages around his arms and torso in a feverish fit. "Gaius, come quickly!"

The old physician shuffled down the stairs, took one look at Merlin, and immediately grabbed the boy's shoulders, forcing them back onto the bed with surprising strength. "Get his legs," he said, "so that he doesn't injure himself further. We'll just wait this one out."

Gwen did as she was told, and within moments he had calmed again, his breathing slightly fast but not erratic. They released him and sat back down.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Gwen said. Gaius shook his head.

"Me neither."

It was at that moment that Gwaine decided to make their presence in the doorway known.

Both Gwen and Gaius's heads snapped up as the entire group entered the room, filling the space silently.

"You found him," Gaius breathed. Gwaine nodded.

"We have come to aid with the collar," Iseldir said, taking a step into the center of the room.

"Yes," Gaius said, "Yes, thank you. Thank you."

Iseldir held up his hand. "May I see Emrys?"

Gaius stood up immediately, as did Gwen. "Yes, of course," the physician said, moving away from the cot.

Iseldir approached the cot and looked at the warlock for a moment.

"How long has he been awake?" The druidian leader asked.

Gwen shook her head. "He hasn't."

Iseldir looked at her and smiled a little.

"Well, he is now."


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello! Another update! And a Happy Easter to all those who celebrate, and a happy day to those who don't :)**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

* * *

"How long has he been awake?" The druidian leader asked.

Gwen shook her head. "He hasn't."

Iseldir looked at her and smiled a little.

"Well, he is now."

The whole room went silent.

* * *

"He's what?" Gaius squawked, rushing towards Merlin's side. Iseldir had already knelt by the boy's head, and was now whispering something, blocking the rest of the room's view.

"Merlin?" Gaius's voice was cautious. Iseldir stopped murmuring and leaned back to allow a clear view of the warlock's face. Sure enough, Merlin's eyes were slivered open, his jaw slack and his brow furrowed. At the sound of his name, he turned his head painfully to the side, his half-lidded eyes landing on Gaius. His throat worked beneath the collar.

"Guh..." He slurred.

Gaius knelt down and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Merlin blinked, his eyes rolling back into his head for a moment, the whites painfully visible. Then he shuddered and winced and opened them again, dull blue in sunken sockets.

"Guh...iss…?" he forced out, his brow creasing with confusion.

Gaius felt his eyes fill with tears. "Yes, my boy. It's me."

Merlin blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused. "M'...neck...hu-h'rs." His brow suddenly crumpled, and a few tears ran down his cheeks. He took a deep, painful breath between each word. "'M...s'ry." His bony fingers moved to touch the collar around his neck, and his eyes filled with tears. "'M suh-sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry." Gaius said, placing a hand on Merlin's forehead. At the contact, Merlin swallowed painfully.

"'I-I- 'm dead?" He whispered, his eyes turning to look at Iseldir sadly. "Let y-yuh-duh-down. 'M s'ry."

Iseldir shook his head. "You're not dead, Emrys."

Merlin nodded. "'M duh-dead. 'M dead."

"No, Emrys. You are safe now. You are with Gaius." Iseldir tried catching the warlock's eye as he spoke, but his eyes kept wandering around the room, stopping on different faces without focusing.

"I don' hafff plans. Promise."

"We know you don't, mate," Gwaine said, emerging from the back of the room. Merlin's eyes widened. "'G'aine?"

The knight smiled. "It's me."

Merlin smiled back. "Hm. G-Good."

His eyes slipped closed, but opened again not a moment later.

"Please," Merlin gasped, his fingers gripping the collar once again, "Oh g'd, please. Suh-stop."

Iseldir stood very quietly, his eyes full of sympathy and maybe a little regret. Gwaine's stomach dropped as he remembered the conversation in the woods, but willed it away. Merlin couldn't live with a collar around his neck for the rest of his life. He wouldn't survive it.

Iseldir knelt so that he was eye-to-eye with Merlin.

"Emrys," he said. His voice was full and loud over Merlin's frail one. Merlin's eyes traveled to look at his, fingers still clenched against the collar.

"Please," Merlin whispered, "it huh-hurrs." His voice was only marginally stronger than before. He winced as a tremor moved down his spine.

"I know, Emrys." Iseldir stole a glance at Gaius, and when he spoke, he spoke to the entire room. "If I could take the pain away right now, I would. But magic does not work on iron, and the collar is designed to react to any spell being cast inside of it." He looked at Merlin thinking out loud, "and yet... the pain isn't from casting, is it?"

Merlin stared blankly. Iseldir sighed before repeating the question, slowly, and Merlin finally shook his head.

Iseldir nodded. "I thought so. You gain magic from the earth and the air around you. It sustains you, both your soul and your body." He looked back at Gaius, "The pain isn't directly from the collar."

"What are you playing at? He-" Gwaine was cut off by Iseldir before he could finish.

"I said not directly. Collars like these- they need to be activated by spells. By casting. Otherwise, they are just preventing the sorcerer from accessing his magic. But Merlin is a warlock, so instead of having magic, he is magic. He is feeling pain because his body is unable to properly sustain itself without the aid of its magic."

"So it's killing him," Gaius said quietly.

"It should be," Iseldir furrowed his brow as he searched Merlin's face, "but you're still here." He reached his hand out, "May I?"

Merlin gasped, but jerked his head slightly in a nod.

Iseldir ran his fingers along the runes of the collar, then the inner jewels, cringing a little as they made contact with his own skin. Merlin made a few pained noises, but didn't move away from the touch. The Druid's frown deepened.

"There isn't…" He ran his fingers along one of the runes again. "Who etched these?"

"The court scribe," Gaius said. "Is there something wrong with the runes?"

Iseldir shook his head, but his brow was still furrowed. He stood up. "No, but I thought there would be. These collars can kill a warlock, even without the jewels. They simply cannot survive without their magic. I assumed there was some kind of flaw in the etching, something letting a little magic in, and that was why he was doing so well."

Everybody looked at Merlin. They didn't want to think about how this was doing well.

"But there are no flaws. The runes are complete. The only other way the collar could possibly be allowing enough magic in to keep Merlin alive would be if there was a hole in the collar itself somewhere. But in that case, I would be able to feel the magic flow to the area, as would Merlin, so it is obvious that there is no hole. And yet… it's almost as if he isn't fully inside of the collar."

"But that is impossible," Gaius said.

Iseldir pursed his lips. "That may be, but all the same, Merlin is still breathing." He knelt again, resting a hand on Merlin's cheek. The warlock flinched but quickly calmed himself, his glassy eyes coming to rest on Iseldir. Iseldir held the eye contact as he spoke. "Where is your magic, Emrys?" He whispered, "Can you feel it?"

Merlin continued to stare, reactionless.

"Emrys, I need you to hear me. You must feel it somewhere; it is the only thing keeping you alive. Where is it coming from? Please, listen to me."

Merlin whimpered and shook his head, attempting to shy away from the Druid's contact. Iseldir held firm, keeping his hand on his cheek, urging him to open his eyes again. There was a long moment where nothing happened, and then Merlin's eyes fluttered open and came to rest on Iseldir.

"Destiny," he gasped, and Iseldir immediately understood.

"We need to get Arthur in here," Iseldir said, standing suddenly. The occupants of the room all stood as well, but more in a frantic confusion than in any productive way.

Finally, Gaius got his wits about him. "Why?" He asked, glancing from Merlin to Iseldir.

Iseldir was speaking excitedly. "Because he and Arthur are tied together with a destiny that has existed since the beginning of time. What is it, 'two sides of the same coin?' 'A half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole?' Either way, he and Arthur are incomplete without each other. They do not and cannot exist independently. And so the collar might be cutting Merlin off from his magic, but his destiny is still intact. And that destiny, that magic, is still a part of Arthur. And so Arthur is the weakest link. He is the part of Merlin that is free, whose magic is not bound. The hole in the barrier that should be killing Merlin. So to remove the collar, we need to exploit that hole. Magic does not work on iron, but there are ways to enlarge a hole."

"But how do we do we do that? If there is no physical hole-"

"It's the magic connection between Merlin and Arthur that is the hole, not Arthur himself. We need to utilize that connection, to press the magic directly through that tunnel, so to speak.

"But we can't just go about casting spells on Arthur, surely." Gaius was slowly approaching

"Of course not. The magic has to be direct. It has to go through Arthur. The king needs to wield it himself."


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey guys!**

**Sorry for the wait, writer's block and life. Anyway, enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

"Of course not. The magic has to be direct. It has to go through Arthur. The king needs to wield it himself."

* * *

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Instead, all eyes turned towards Iseldir in varying mixes of confusion, hope, and dread.

"Could you say that again?" Gwaine asked slowly. Iseldir gave him a sympathetic look.

"I said, Arthur needs to wield the magic himself." He surveyed the rest of the faces in the room, "I realize that this is not something you would like to hear."

Gwaine nodded, more to himself than to anybody else. "Yeah, that's what I thought you said."

The silence that followed was oppressive. It seemed the entire room was at a loss for words. Gaius knelt to feel Merlin's forehead, only to find that the sorcerer had fallen unconscious again, this time in a slightly more natural slumber. He sighed. He wondered if Iseldir had had anything to do with Merlin's miraculous return to consciousness. He couldn't see how, considering the collar had blocked even the most basic of magic. Perhaps Merlin's body had simply sensed it needed to be awake, if only for a moment. Or maybe Iseldir and the Druids were powerful in more ways than Gaius knew. Either way, it was truly a miracle that Merlin had been able to speak to Iseldir, and that Iseldir could comprehend what he had been trying to convey- even if what he was trying to convey seemed virtually impossible.

It occurred to him that Merlin had probably already known about this, had already been aware that his only way out of the collar was through Arthur. How long had he known? Had he been aware of it from the moment the collar was put on him, or had he figured it out later? Had Iseldir speaking to him brought about the realization? Not that it truly mattered, Gaius supposed-the result was still the same. Someone was going to need to speak to Arthur.

Outside, the rain and wind howled and slapped against the windows.

* * *

They found him in his chambers.

His crown was laying on his desk, its golden finish dulled by the blue-grey color that leaked through the tall windows. There were some papers scattered beneath them, covered in his thick, heavy-handed scrawl. A few had been blurred illegibly, making it obvious that the windows had only been recently closed; that they had been open during a good portion of the storm. His bed was unslept in.

And Arthur was sitting at his desk. Ink stains on his fingers. Rain in his hair. Jaw in the palm of his hand.

Gwen stood in the doorway once again, unsure of how to approach. The king hadn't noticed her knock or her entrance, and had yet to notice her presence at all. Behind her, in the hallway, she could hear the nervous breathing of Gwaine and Iseldir as they waited for her to signal them in.

She cleared her throat. Arthur didn't look up, and she wondered if he was actually asleep. She took another few steps into the room, and her foot caught on a pile of crumpled paper, scattering it across the floor. She had a moment to glimpse the blurred remnants of the words "decree," and "war," "imprisonment" and "apology," before Arthur jerked and looked up sharply, immediately making eye contact. Gwen suddenly felt like she'd been caught doing something wrong, but shook it off.

"Can I help you?" Arthur asked. The words were formal, but the tone was soft. He sounded tired. Gwen's chest ached with sympathy even as her stomach twisted with anger. She folded her hands in front of her.

"Yes." She broke eye contact, "Gwaine came back."

And although she wasn't looking, she knew Arthur's eyes had widened.

"Alone?" he asked. She couldn't read his tone, and paused for a moment. Arthur remained silent, waiting for her answer.

"No," she said. "Not alone."

This time, there was obvious relief in his voice.

"Has he seen to Merlin?"

"Yes." She bit her lip.

"And?"

"And…" she hesitated again, looking back towards the door. She couldn't see Iseldir or Gwaine, but she knew they were listening. "He couldn't help."

Arthur sank back into his chair. His shoulders slumped for a moment as his hand rose to run down his face and pinch his nose and eyes. He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes lowered towards his desk and covered with his hand as he spoke.

"I see." His voice was tight. His jaw was locked. "And is he still here?"

Gwen took a step towards the door. She did not trust this Arthur. "Yes, he is."

"And he has tried everything within his power?"

She sighed. "His power doesn't matter, Arthur. You know that."

"I know what?" His voice was louder, closer to the edge of his teeth.

"Magic doesn't work on iron."

"Goddamit!" He snapped, standing from his desk and knocking his crown off of it with an angry sweep of his hand. "God fucking dammit!" He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily through his nose and teeth. Gwen stood stock still, determined to stay and afraid to.

"So that's it, then?" he hissed. "That's all there is?" His hand snapped down to slam against his desk, and an inkwell teetered and fell, shattering against the stone floor, splattering the desk and papers there like dark blood. His fingers curled into a fist. "Do you understand what that means?" There were flecks of ink on his fingers, and as he moved his hand he smeared them against the desk. "Do you get it?"

For a moment, Gwen forgot her anger. "Arthur…" she said softly, but Arthur punched his desk again, cutting her off.

"No, Gwen! You don't get it! Do you know what I did? Do you know? I put that thing on him! It was me! I walked right up and I reached around his neck and snap! It was done. And I liked it, Gwen. I really did. He was delivering me breakfast when- Gwen, he was doing his goddamn job- We hadn't even spoken that morning. I didn't even make eye contact, I just came up behind him and- You know he didn't even say anything, he didn't have any time to, he just dropped everything and there was wine everywhere and I liked it. And now-" He cut himself off, still breathing heavily, before muttering, "Magic doesn't work on iron."

Gwen stood, stunned. This was not the way she had expected it to go.

"Please," he murmured, and his gaze met Gwen's again. His breathing was slowing, hiccuping in his chest like he was about to break down. "There needs to be- there can't just be nothing. It's Merlin, for gods' sake- He can't just- I can't be-" He ran his hand through his hair, and ink darkened his forehead and everything he touched.

"Arthur."

Both the king and the queen jumped at the third voice in the room. Gwaine stood in the doorway, Iseldir behind his shoulder. The king's eyes widened and he bowed his head slightly.

"Iseldir," he said, and his cheeks colored with shame.

Gwaine moved to the side to allow Iseldir access to the room. The Druid stepped delicately, avoiding the paper and ink and broken glass on the floor, until he was standing only feet away from Arthur, just behind the fallen crown.

"I'd hoped we could meet again in better circumstances," Iseldir said. Arthur swallowed.

"As did I."

Iseldir knelt and lifted one of the wet pieces of paper. "Looks like you have been busy, your highness." He tilted the paper, watched as the ink and rainwater ran onto the floor. "A new decree?" He lifted another paper. "Or an apology?"

Arthur didn't reply, only watched the diluted grey drip from the paper's edge. Iseldir placed them on the desk.

"I see." The paper hissed as it was slid across the wood towards Arthur. "But you believe it's too late."

Arthur refused to look at both the Druid and the papers. "It doesn't matter," he said. "It is too late."

A half-smile spread across Iseldir's face. "No, it is not. You still have time."

Arthur laughed. "But there's nothing to be done. You cannot help him. Nobody can. What is an apology going to do? What is a decree going to reverse? I can't go back and change things. I've killed him already. It's just a matter of time."

"A decree could prevent this from happening again. God only knows how many innocent sorcerers have been in Merlin's place. And an apology isn't enough, but it is a start." He nudged the crown with his foot, watched it roll across the floor until it reached Gwaine. The knight picked it up and held it awkwardly in his dirty fingers.

"And," Iseldir said, looking at the crown, "There is something you can do for him."

Arthur started at that, his pale eyes searching Iseldir's face. "I have tried to write the legalization proposal many times," he said, motioning towards the papers, "and I have tried to write an apology. But nothing is big enough."

"This isn't something to write down, sire. It is something to be done. Something that I cannot do."

The king continued to search the Druid's face, trying to find answers.

"How far are you willing to go to save your servant?" Iseldir asked, and Arthur breathed in.

"As far as it takes."

"Are you quite sure?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

Iseldir smiled. "Then you better finish writing that decree," he said. "And welcome to the world of magic users."


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys!**

** And we are just moving right ****along here...**

**As always, enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

"How far are you willing to go to save your servant?" Iseldir asked, and Arthur breathed in.

"As far as it takes."

"Are you quite sure?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

Iseldir smiled. "Then you better finish writing that decree," he said. "And welcome to the world of magic users."

* * *

"Sorry?" Arthur's eyes reminded Gwaine of a fish, bulging and confused.

Iseldir reached over and plucked the crown from Gwaine's fingers. "You did say you would do whatever it takes to help Emrys, did you not?"

"Yes, but I don't understand-"

"And as far as I can tell, you are also dealing with the problem of Morgana? There are much bigger things at stake than just Emrys's life or your destiny. Camelot is at stake as well. You need him as much as you want him to recover."

Arthur closed his mouth. It was true. He not only wanted Merlin to be alright; he needed him. Camelot needed him.

Iseldir continued, "the collar that you so carelessly bestowed upon Emrys is made of iron, making it impossible for me or any other magical creature to remove it."

A loud breath came out of the king's nose, and he looked at his feet. "Yes. Yes, I know." He ran his hand over his hair nervously. "But you said there's a way to fix that, right?"

"There is a way for _you_ to fix that, yes."

"But what was it you said about magic users?"

Iseldir gave a little half smile. "I said welcome."

"Right, and what did you mean by that?"

Iseldir gave Arthur a long look. Arthur stared, uncomprehending. Then his eyes widened as realization dawned on him.

"Wait, now surely you don't mean-" he shot a glance at Gwen, then Gwaine. "-I'm n-not-"

"You said you would do whatever it takes," Gwaine said.

"Yes, but I didn't know that- I can't just drop everything and renounce my father's work! I couldn't!"

"You were already writing a decree to legalize magic, what is the difference?" Iseldir motioned towards the paper scattered around them. "Obviously you have already decided to renounce your father's work."

"The difference is _me,"_ Arthur muttered, glaring at the papers as if they were the enemy.

"No, the difference is your commitment."

Arthur moved his chin sharply up towards the Druid, his eyes unreadable. "I am fully committed to legalizing sorcery. I am fully committed to apologizing for the wrongs I have perpetrated against Merlin. Don't think for a minute that I am not."

Iseldir shrugged. "I believe your guilt is true, Pendragon. You believe that Emrys is not evil and that magic is not what corrupts. And yet you are still afraid of it, why?"

"I'm not afraid." The king's voice was low and careful.

"Then join me."

"No."

"Then condemn Merlin to his fate." Iseldir sounded only slightly angry. He had expected such a blatant refusal, of course. The king had been told since birth -brainwashed, really-that what he was being asked to do was the ultimate act of evil. But Arthur was smarter than that. He needed to be.

"Arthur, if you don't do this, Merlin will die."

Gwen's voice cut through the arguing. Every man in the room turned to look at her. Her eyes were dark and serious. Her mouth was set in a grim line. She was powerful and strong and so, so brave, and Arthur felt like the world was crumbling around him. She was right. She had always been right, ever since this whole thing had started. And she was speaking the truth now- Merlin would die. Not only that, but Gaius had said that without Merlin, Morgana was undefeatable. Merlin would die. Camelot would fall.

Iseldir rubbed his chin, watching Arthur. He nodded towards the paper on the table.

"Write the decree first. Legalize magic. Skip the advisors and finish the document."

"But the people…" Arthur trailed off. How would the people of Camelot react? "They have been told for over twenty years that magic is evil, magic is dangerous, magic is the source of all corruption. There will be riots. There will be protests. The knights are already preparing for war, we do not have the resources to stop an uprising as well."

"The people of Camelot have all lost loved ones to the purge. Acceptance will come slowly."

"But Morgana will attack. And if I have legalized magic just days before that, the repercussions will be unheard of."

"Yes, but with magic legalized you may help Merlin without the restraints of your own laws, and you might even gain some magical allies."

"In less than a fortnight? Impossible."

"Then write the document and announce it at a later date."

Arthur opened his mouth, but could find nothing to say.

"As for your job," Iseldir continued once he knew he had won, "you may come with me. We have much to discuss and even more to learn."

The king took an involuntary step backwards. "Where are we going?"

Gwaine and Gwen were already moving towards the door. Iseldir smiled thinly. "To Gaius," he said. "You need as much help as you can receive, and I have a team of Druids, an experienced physician, and the world's greatest sorcerer in that room."

Arthur's entrance when he arrived at Gaius's chambers was less than stellar.

Gwen and Gwaine came in first, and the Druids all surged forward, their eyes full of questions.

"Did the king say yes?"

"Where is Iseldir?"

"Will Emrys survive?"

Gwen and Gwaine didn't have time to answer any of them before Iseldir entered, looking serious but not unpleased. Looking back at Gwen and Gwaine, the Druids noted that neither of them had looked particularly unhappy either-and was that a hint of a smile on Gwen's lips?

Gaius was doing his best to remain calm, but even he was anxious to hear the news.

Iseldir lifted a hand for silence in the small room. It was unneeded, however, because it was only a moment later that Arthur walked in, and whoever had been talking abruptly stopped.

All eyes turned to the king.

Arthur kept his head bowed as he walked in. He had been trying to avoid Gaius's chambers for a number of reasons, and now all of his fears were coming true.

Gaius was standing beside Merlin's cot, as was Percival. A group of druids-at least ten, maybe twelve, was huddled in the corner. And if that wasn't disconcerting enough, half of them had glowing golden eyes.

And they were all looking directly at him. Arthur froze just inside of the doorway.

"Uh-" he started. What was he supposed to say? Thank you for coming? I'm sorry? Welcome? Was he supposed to even say anything at all?

"The king has agreed to our request," Iseldir announced, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he could get out of the room without saying a word.

The room's reaction was one of stunted joy. Gaius let out a breath and pressed his hand to his forehead. Percival gave a curt nod. The druids broke into smiles and a few gave Arthur looks of encouragement. Arthur felt distinctly uncomfortable, and tried to look at anything in the room aside from a person.

Instead, Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder, gently leading him further into the room.

"We need to begin immediately if we want to get the collar off of Emrys in time," Iseldir was saying, directing Arthur to the back room where Merlin used to sleep, "Please do not disturb us." Arthur kept his eyes forward as the two of them moved, avoiding eye contact.

When they passed Merlin, however, he couldn't help himself from looking.

He looked...horrible wasn't even the right word. Like a corpse, perhaps, or like he was on his deathbed. Arthur couldn't bring himself to observe the details. He was still sick and still hurt, and that was really all Arthur needed to know.

Iseldir pushed the door to Merlin's old chambers open, and Arthur was struck with a combination of nostalgia and guilt. The room looked as if it had been untouched since the day Merlin had been arrested. The bed was still unmade. A goblet, half-filled with musty water, laid untouched on a small table, an open book next to it. A dirty blue shirt was crumpled on the floor beside a used red neck scarf.

Arthur briefly wondered what the guards had done with the red shirt and blue neck scarf that Merlin had been brought into the dungeons with, but quickly abandoned the thought; they had been discarded, no doubt.

Iseldir took a seat on the wooden planks that made up Merlin's floor and motioned for Arthur to do the same. He did so, but only after half of the Druid group came filing in behind him.

With eight people and the door closed, Merlin's room felt uncomfortably small.

"Why-" Arthur began, but stopped himself.

Iseldir rose his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Why did half of them stay outside?"

Iseldir smiled. "Rain, Pendragon, is a rather magical thing. Now, shall we begin?"

The Druids sat down silently, pulling Arthur back so that they were all seated in a tight circle.

"What happens now?" Arthur asked as Iseldir lit a candle and placed it on the floor.

"Now, young king, we must find your magic."


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey! This chapter is a little longer than average, but I think you will like it. This story certainly did not go in a direction that I had expected it to... **

**But Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

The Druids sat down silently, pulling Arthur back so that they were all in a tight circle.

"What happens now?" Arthur asked as Iseldir lit a candle and placed it on the floor.

"Now, young king, we must find your magic."

* * *

Oh. Arthur shifted his weight. "What if I don't have magic?"

The Druids in the room chuckled, and Arthur suddenly felt even more out of his depth than before. "Everybody has magic," Iseldir said, "It's just a question of how much."

"Well, then what if I don't have very much?"

Iseldir was fiddling with his robe, pulling something out of his sleeve. "Then we'll make do."

He revealed a small cloth pouch, cinched closed with a bit of twine. Opening it, Iseldir withdrew a chunk of red stone and placed it on the ground in front of Arthur. He then laid a silver ring, a sliver of charcoal, and a clear crystal beside it, in a neat little line.

"What are these for?" Arthur asked. He had instinctively leaned away from the objects. The Druids had moved into a slightly wider circle, closing it behind him so that Arthur and Iseldir were now seated in the center, facing one another.

"It can take an enthusiastic pupil days, even weeks, to find their own inner magic," Iseldir said, "but we do not have that kind of time. These materials may help to shorten the process."

Arthur was still leaning away from the collection of magical artifacts, eyeing them with suspicion. "I see," he said, his voice tight.

Iseldir pointed to the sliver of charcoal. "This is common charcoal. It will not harm you. It is found in your fireplace. You could go retrieve your own piece right now, if you wish." He moved his finger towards the red stone. "Calcite," he said. "I believe you have it in your own jewel stores. Again, harmless." He pointed to the crystal. "Quartz can no doubt be found in the decorations of the throne room," he pointed to the ring, "and if you prefer a ring of your own possession as a conduit, you are welcome to use it. As long as it is silver."

Arthur looked a little uneasy, but at least he wasn't leaning away from them anymore. "That's all these are?" He asked, motioning towards the objects, "no spells, no curses, no tricks?"

"None of that. Just regular, everyday materials."

Arthur seemed to relax a little more. He fiddled with his hands for a second before removing a ring. "This is silver," he said, laying it down on the ground, "we can use it instead. I do not want to take your possessions."

Iseldir nodded and took back his own, putting it into the pouch. "Very well. It might even be better, seeing as this ring has some meaning to you."

"Yes, I've had it for years."

The candle in the room flickered, and Iseldir produced a second one, placing it next to the first to make the room twice as bright. The storm outside howled against the windows, night still settled across the land.

"So the storm-it's your doing?" Arthur asked.

Iseldir nodded. "Yes. We needed to stall Morgana somehow."

Arthur looked at the window, but it was dark. He didn't speak for a moment.

"Thank you," he finally said, turning to face Iseldir once more. The Druid simply bowed his head and lifted the calcite.

"Are you ready to begin?"

Arthur took a deep breath, dragging his eyes from the window to the stone in Iseldir's hand.

"Yes," he said at last, "I'm ready."

Iseldir smiled warmly. "Put your ring back on, and make sure to remove all other jewelry."

Arthur did as he was told. It wasn't that hard-he was only wearing one other ring.

"Alright," Iseldir continued, "now please take this," he held up the calcite, "in the same hand as the ring."

Arthur took the stone. It was heavier than expected, and clicked against his ring unpleasantly. "Okay, now what?"

Iseldir sat up straight. "Magic is a part of the earth. It is a part of the sky and the air and it is a part you. It flows around you, through you, from you. But it returns to the earth. It always returns to the earth."

Arthur looked at the rock in his hand. It just felt like an ordinary rock to him.

"Calcite is a grounding stone. It is the blood of the mountains. It is what connects you to the natural world. Can you feel it?"

Arthur looked at the rock again. He supposed it was a nice color, and a nice size. It fit into his hand almost perfectly. He reasoned that it was a relatively pretty stone, if a little dirty. But it didn't feel like anything else. What he could feel were the eyes of the occupants of the room on him. A few seconds passed. Then a minute. Then another. As the time ticked by, Arthur looked at Iseldir.

"I feel nothing," he murmured.

"You need to focus."

Arthur closed his eyes. He squeezed the rock, felt it hit the ring and dig into his palm. He felt uncomfortable. He felt silly. There was nothing there, no connection. If he had magic, it was far away from him. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to feel. Another minute passed. Then another.

"There's nothing," Arthur said, squeezing the rock harder. He clenched his jaw, trying to force his fingers to feel anything but a rough piece of rock. Whatever the hell "the connection," was, Arthur wasn't a part of it. He loosened his grip, waited a minute. Tightened it again. Waited another minute. Over and over, he felt a cool rock in between his fingers, but nothing else.

Iseldir could see that Arthur was struggling. He was too tense, too stiff. They needed a different approach. No matter, there were many ways to establish a relationship with magic.

"Pendragon," he said, and Arthur looked at him, the stone still closed in his fist, suspended in front of him like an awkward weight. Iseldir reached down and picked up the charcoal, scraping it against the wooden floorboards, making dark lines in the grain. Arthur dropped his hand into his lap and watched.

"Magic is not just an energy. It can be solid, too. This is the Druidic symbol for earth magic," the symbol on the ground was sharp, with tight angles and sloping curves. "And this is the symbol that represents your destiny as a once and future king; the symbol that is the title of your prophecy."

The symbol curled intricately beside its partner within a circular frame, seeming to pulse in its wooden confines. Arthur took in the pattern, struck with its beauty. He'd never thought of magic as beautiful, yet he felt both appalled and drawn to this shape, as if he had seen it before. The stone in his lap felt heavier, warmer, the longer he studied the symbol. He was struck with a sudden curiosity; he wanted to know what it was, why the lines curved in that way, why they seemed to move.

Iseldir watched Arthur's fingers twitch, saw how the king's eyes followed the lines. He smiled. A visual learner. Iseldir had been a visual learner himself, relying on runes in his younger days rather than artifacts. Some people were drawn to materials. Others were drawn to symbols. it was only a matter of finding which one worked better. It seemed Arthur was no different than any other magic user or young Druid. "What is it?" He asked the king, who still seemed transfixed.

"What does it say?" Arthur asked.

"What do you think?" Iseldir responded, tilting back, "what do you think the title of your future could be called?"

Arthur leaned forward, resting his weight on his fists before him. "I'm not sure," he said, looking up. "You're not bewitching me, are you?"

Iseldir chuckled. "No, Pendragon. I am not."

"Then what does the symbol say?"

Iseldir folded his hands in front of him. "It should be familiar to you by now."

Arthur looked at him blankly. Iseldir sighed. It was becoming evident that Arthur needed to be walked through the entire process, not just nudged in the right direction. "Emrys," Iseldir said, "it says 'Emrys.'"

Arthur nodded, his body tensing. "Oh," he looked at the symbol again, "I should have known."

"You must remember that you and Emrys are one prophecy. Your soul is linked to his. You alone can save him, because you alone have this connection. As I told the others, you are two halves of a single whole. You cannot exist independently. You are the half of Emrys that is free, and you are the half of Emrys that can practice the magic needed to free him. And this symbol embodies all of that."

"But I have never practiced magic. All of this-" he motioned towards the Druids, the storm, the symbols, the rock in his hand, "is foreign to me. How can I recognize something that I have never felt before?"

"You aren't a stranger to magic, Pendragon. You forget that your destiny has already been foretold. You forget that a part of your soul resides in the greatest warlock to ever walk the earth. You forget that even your birth was the result of magic."

Arthur took a deep breath, taking it all in. He'd never realized how often his life and magic had intersected.

"And you feel something when you look at this symbol, do you not?" Iseldir pointed to the Emrys symbol.

Arthur nodded. "I do. But I don't know what to do with it."

Iseldir held his hand out, palm up. "May I see your hand?"

The candles threw shadows across the ceiling as Arthur placed his hand in Iseldir's, looking extremely uncomfortable with the contact. But Iseldir simply pressed Arthur's hand against the floor, over the Druid mark, the calcite trapped between. Arthur gasped in surprise, but Iseldir held his hand still. "Now I need you to close your eyes," Iseldir was saying, but Arthur was still staring at his hand, the pulse of the symbol traveling through the rock and up to his elbow. His fingers felt hot. "Pendragon," Iseldir's voice was louder, and Arthur jerked his head to look at him, flexing his fingers instinctively. "Close your eyes."

Arthur did as he was told, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Hold out your other hand," Iseldir commanded, and Arthur did, his fingers trembling. Iseldir dropped the quartz crystal into it, and his hand curled into a fist around it. "And whatever you do, keep your eyes closed."

The quartz was cool in his palm, a stark contrast to the vibrant heat coming from the calcite in his other. Arthur felt, rather than saw, Iseldir guide his hand to the floor and press it over the earth magic symbol. The crystal immediately when from cool to icy cold, and as much as Arthur wanted to pull away, Iseldir's hands kept him in place.

"Remember that you are doing this for Emrys. With Emrys," Iseldir was saying. "Remember that you are a creature of this world, and a man born from magic. Remember that this feeling is familiar. That magic is natural, not foreign. Can you feel it, Pendragon?"

Arthur gasped as something in his chest shifted, as a pressure he had never realized was there suddenly grew, his very being seeming to swell and stretch. He fought to keep his eyes shut as his head grew heavy and his fingers went numb.

"I can feel it," he began to say, the black space behind his eyelids flashing with red light, but was cut off as a sudden sharp pain shot from his wrists to his spine. He took a quick breath in, but the pain only spread, going from sharp to a dull ache, to a thick, heavy fog. The pressure intensified, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut more tightly as his body began to shake. He felt the weight of hands on his shoulders, the warm breath of the Druids near his face and ears and the back of his neck. The pressure in his chest grew and the hands on his shoulders made his skin itch. "I-I can't-" He couldn't finish his sentence, couldn't breathe as the pressure pressed against his ribs. The lights behind his eyelids flashed more quickly, and he could hear the Druids chanting.

His mouth opened to speak, but his words were transformed into groaning as his skin crawled, it was too hot, too small- and he was distantly aware that someone was groaning- that he was yelling-when suddenly the pressure came to a peak, and he screamed, his vision bursting with light, with a hot, vibrant gold that he somehow felt inside of his bones, inside of his organs, inside of his stomach and heart and soul. Arthur had a split second of clarity, where he was aware of the Druids around him, could feel their energies and the energies of the people in the room next door, could feel the stunted pain of Merlin's magic, before he took a deep, aching breath, and the world went black.

As Arthur slumped forward, unconscious, the Druids assisted him, guiding him to the ground gently with the hands that were already pressed against his shoulders. Iseldir let out the breath he was holding, suddenly aware that the door to Merlin's room had opened, Gaius and Gwen and Percival standing in the doorway with fear in their eyes. They'd heard the yelling and had come might be angry at Arthur, but in that moment, Iseldir knew they would eventually forgive him.

"He is fine," Iseldir said, addressing the worried trio. "Just unconscious." The group looked from him to Arthur, who was lying very still on the ground. "I promise you, he will wake very soon. He has just undergone an exceptionally grueling transformation. I am sure you will understand if he needs a few moment's rest."

"But did it work?" Gwaine asked, "Does he have magic now?"

Iseldir stood and moved towards the door, gently ushering them out of the room. "Possibly. We must wait for his return to consciousness to be sure."

Gwaine opened his mouth to ask another question, but Iseldir closed the door before he could start.

He knelt before the fallen king. All they could do now was wait.

* * *

Arthur's skull felt heavy. It was the first thing he was aware of: His head felt heavy. The second thing he was aware of was the warmth buried in the center or his chest. The third was the fact that he was pretty sure he was lying on the floor of Merlin's chambers. And the fourth was-

Well, Arthur actually had no idea what the fourth thing was.

And it was that feeling- that fourth thing- that had Arthur startling awake, his eyes opening and then abruptly slamming closed again. He groaned and rolled onto his back.

What was going on?

There were seven people in the room. Arthur knew this without looking. He knew it immediately upon waking up. In fact, he knew there were seven people in this room and an additional eleven in the room next door. He also knew there were two songbirds taking shelter from the rain in the bush beneath the window, and a rat scrambling beneath the floorbirds. Everything hummed and buzzed in his chest and head with a different frequency.

And he also knew that he really didn't want to open his eyes again.

"Sire," a voice was saying, and Arthur knew it was a female Druid's voice. He groaned.

A hand was on his shoulder, gently prodding him into wakefulness. "Sire, you must get up."

He shook his head, wincing. The hand disappeared, and then Iseldir's voice rang out above him:

"You need to get up, Pendragon. There is work to be done."

Arthur shook his heavy head. "My eyes," he said, squeezing them shut tighter.

Iseldir knelt down. "Your eyes are fine."

Arthur shook his head again. He wanted to explain that they weren't fine, that when he opened them everything was too bright and too gold, that his pupils burned strangely beneath his eyelids even now.

"Your eyes are fine," Iseldir repeated. "It is your magic that deceives them."

That got Arthur's attention, and he sat up in horror, his eyes opening of their own accord before he pressed his hands over them.

There was a moment of silence, then:

"Open your eyes. I have doused the candles. It should be dark enough in here now."

Arthur hesitated for a moment, but realized he needed to open his eyes eventually. Slowly, he forced his eyelids apart.

The room was nearly pitch-black. He couldn't tell what time of day it was because the storm was still slashing against the windows. Around him, he could see the vague outline of seven Druids. They each oozed a dull golden light.

Arthur quickly found Iseldir in the mass of grey-gold. "What-" he looked around again, took in the way the runes and the rocks on the floor were also glowing faintly gold, "-is this magic?"

Iseldir nodded. "The sensitivity-that is, the gold haze you are probably seeing and feeling- should begin to fade as your body adjusts, but yes. What you are feeling, what you are seeing and understanding, is all magic." He smiled and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Would you like to see?"

Arthur wasn't sure what he meant by 'see,' but nodded anyway. Already the golden haze was growing duller.

Iseldir pulled Arthur to his feet and lead him across the room. A small mirror was leaning against the wall, and Iseldir handed it to Arthur. "Take a look," he said.

Arthur turned the mirror and nearly dropped it in shock.

"Welcome," Iseldir said as Arthur studied his reflection.

Staring back at him was Arthur's own face-his blond hair, his strong jaw, his straight nose- but what he was fixated on were his eyes. His once-blue irises were now brilliant, glowing, and a vibrant shade of gold.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey! After a long break, I've finally returned! Here is the next installment!**

**(Special thanks to those that commented and reminded me that I hadn't updated in along time. You know who you are.)**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

Previously...

Staring back at him was Arthur's own face-his blond hair, his strong jaw, his straight nose- but what he was fixated on were his eyes. His once-blue irises were now brilliant, glowing, and a vibrant shade of gold.

* * *

"I think it rather suits you," Gwaine was saying, sitting on a stool across the room from Arthur, who was checking his reflection every few minutes. At another time the comment would have been lighthearted, but Gwaine had somehow managed to twist the words into something slightly more bitter.

Arthur gave him a long look, then turned back to his reflection. It had been two hours since he had initially woken up, and an additional five hours that he had been unconscious on Merlin's floor. It was early afternoon, although you couldn't tell from Gaius's chambers, with the storm and the dark windows. Gwen wouldn't stop staring at him from her station by Merlin's side, and even Gaius kept giving him strange looks. But Arthur was confined to Gaius's chambers until the magic died down enough for him to not attract attention, and even longer if he wanted to save Merlin.

The Druids were all in Merlin's little room, preparing something that they had yet to name, although they had felt compelled to force Arthur to leave the vicinity while they were doing it. So now Arthur was seated in the furthest corner of Gaius's chambers, trying to avoid making eye contact with Percival, Gwen, Gwaine, and Gaius while also avoiding looking at Merlin. He was failing at that last one, though, because every time Merlin wheezed or moaned or shifted in his sleep, Arthur's eyes went straight towards him. He was also having trouble ignoring Merlin on a magical level, as Arthur's sensitivity was still high and Merlin appeared to his eyes as a great, glowing beacon even as his magic told him that the warlock was in extreme pain.

Gods, he didn't know how much longer he would be able to stand this. Just being in the same room as Merlin's poisoned, corrupted scraps of magic was enough to make his stomach flip and his skin crawl. It was worse knowing that he had been the one to cause it, and knowing that whatever Arthur was feeling, Merlin was feeling it a thousand times worse.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted and his head turned of its own accord as he felt an animal bolt through the muddy grass outside. Was this how Merlin felt all the time? So heavy and so light all at once? Every living thing humming and moving around him? No wonder he always seemed so distracted.

He managed to wrestle his attention away from the animal outside just in time to watch Percival kneel down and lift Merlin's body into his arms. They'd clothed him partially with a pair of loose breeches, but his chest was still exposed and Arthur could see individual ribs. He watched in morbid fascination as the giant knight positioned Merlin's body carefully before being handed a bowl of broth by Gaius. With slow, patient movements, Percival brought a spoon from the bowl to Merlin's lips, painstakingly feeding him a few drops at a time.

Arthur looked away. He couldn't bare to see the level of weakness that Merlin had reached under his care. Instead, he preoccupied himself with looking around the room and finding which things were glowing with the power of magic. Gaius himself held a faint aura of gold, along with a few of the books on his shelf. The herbs hanging to dry above them oozed their own weak pulses of magic, and even some random objects glowed faintly. The mortar and pestle in the corner. The handle of the water bucket. The wooden steps leading to Merlin's room.

Arthur found that nearly everything in the room was not without a small amount of magic, and as his eyes went to Percival again, he realized why. As Merlin was laid down on his cot, he left behind a fine dusting of gold on Percival's arms and lap. It seemed that Merlin left a piece of himself on everything he touched. A smudge of it on Gwaine's cheek. Caked under Gwen's nails. The amount of magic Arthur could feel within himself was nothing compared to what Merlin had, what Arthur could see, and he knew that the collar was only allowing a fraction of it through. He couldn't begin to fathom what Merlin's full power would be.

There was some clattering as Percival handed the bowl and spoon back to Gaius and settled Merlin onto the bed, and amidst the noise the door to the adjoining room opened.

Iseldir stepped out from the doorway delicately.

He surveyed the room, taking his time in observing where everybody was standing before speaking.

"We are ready," he said at last. "Please, bring Merlin in with you."

The whole group looked at Iseldir for a moment with owlish eyes. Arthur thought that perhaps it would have been comical nearly six weeks ago.

"All of us?" Gwaine asked, obviously used to being excluded from magical or Merlin-related meetings.

Iseldir nodded. "If you would like. I am sure Emrys would prefer it."

Percival grunted and picked Merlin up again, and Gaius lead the procession into Merlin's room. Arthur was the last one to enter, and he shut the door behind him. He found himself standing alone.

The Druids had already arranged themselves neatly on the far side of the room, beyond Merlin's bed. A few were kneeling while others stood in the back. Gaius, Gwen, Percival and Gwaine were standing in the nearest empty corner.

Arthur stayed where he was by the door.

With everybody inside, Iseldir began to speak once again.

"We will need to stop the storm while this ritual takes place," Iseldir explained. He motioned to the young female Druid in the front of the group, "Linona has taken it upon herself to make sure that Morgana remains well outside of the lands of Camelot. If Morgana shows any signs of mobilizing, the ritual will need to be stopped, and the storm restarted."

Everybody nodded in understanding. Iseldir immediately continued:

"Our goal is to free Emrys from the confines of his collar. As most of you have already been informed, the king is the only one whose magic can actually complete this task."

He motioned for Merlin to be laid on the cot. Percival set him down gently before backing away, joining the non-Druid group in their uncertain huddle.

"To begin, we need to be sure that the king's magic can, in fact, bypass the collar, and whether or not the act of doing so will have a tangible or negative result on him or Merlin. If there is such an effect, or Arthur is unable to penetrate the collar, then we will need to rethink our options."

The room was quiet as the possibility of failure settled heavily on the crowd.

"However, if Arthur is able to do everything successfully, then the ritual will continue and we might even be able to free Emrys this very night."

The energy in the room lightened, and all eyes turned to look at Merlin and the collar that bound him.

"We have prepared a very particular ritual that will be used once the king has gained access to Merlin." Iseldir made eye contact with Arthur, his fingers tented before him. "And we," he motioned to the Druids, "will be using you as a kind of battering ram. If you get in, then we can back you up as you cast the spell."

Arthur nodded, speechless. What was he supposed to say? There was not much that he could protest or question without consequently harming or killing Merlin. And although the thought of being used by a group of Druids as a battering ram in order to break an all-powerful warlock out of his magic-suppressing collar scared him to his very core, he would do it. In the face of the other options, he would do it.

He'd already let fear rule him once. He would not allow it to happen again.

"Good," Iseldir turned towards the cot. "Emrys," he said loudly, as if he were commanding him to wake up. As expected, Merlin didn't stir.

"He is very weak," Gaius cut in, walking up to cot. "I doubt he will wake again while the collar is on him. The fact that he has already woken once is a miracle."

Iseldir nodded in understanding. "I was being hopeful. The process is much easier if he is awake. But no matter, it will still work even if he is unconscious." He looked at the group in the corner. "Do you mind propping him up in a sitting position?"

"Not at all," Gwen said, and the group of four immediately went into action, Percival and Gwen pulling Merlin's limp body up by the arms just enough for Gwaine to slide behind. When they were done Merlin sat between Gwaine's legs, his body leaning up against Gwaine's chest and his head resting back on his shoulder.

"That is good," Iseldir said, "but Arthur needs to be in your place." He pointed to Gwaine.

Arthur stiffened. So did Gwaine.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, mate," Gwaine said.

Iseldir shrugged. "It is the only way for the spell to work."

Gwaine looked at Arthur. "I… Are you sure?" His hands tightened a little around Merlin's torso. "I really think Merlin'd prefer being with me."

"I am sure he would. But unfortunately, there is no getting around it- The king needs to be the one in full contact with Emrys."

Gwaine hesitated for a moment more. He looked as if he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. He removed his hands from Merlin and shifted back a little.

"Fine," he said, and Arthur stepped in to take Gwaine's place.

As Arthur slid into place, Gwaine narrowed his eyes and hissed into his ear, "If you mess this up, you're a dead man."

Arthur swallowed and flinched as Merlin was lowered against his chest. This was the first time Arthur had had contact with Merlin since he'd brought him to Gaius, and he wished he could say things had gotten better.

They hadn't. Wrapping his arms around him, Arthur could feel every bone in Merlin's chest and the ridges of his spine. He was so thin it was as if Arthur was hugging himself, and his breathing was harsh and shallow in his ears. He weighed nothing. Arthur's stomach flipped and red-hot guilt wound its way from his stomach to his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered into Merlin's ear, knowing full well that Merlin wasn't listening.

Nobody seemed to notice the moment, as Iseldir barked a few more orders that Arthur couldn't hear and the Druids took up positions around the bed, kneeling in a horseshoe shape around the two.

Iseldir himself stepped over the foot of the bed and knelt on the mattress before Merlin.

"Are you ready to cast your first spell, Arthur Pendragon?"

Iseldir's voice was quiet enough that only the Druids could hear them. Arthur looked at Gwen and Gaius, who were both looking at the group with worried eyes. He looked at Percival, whose face was perfectly neutral while his fingers tapped nervously against his sides. And then he looked at Gwaine, who had managed to look worried and angry all at once. He felt Merlin's breaths against his own, felt the magic that hummed in Merlin's veins and buzzed behind his own eyes.

He couldn't help the painful feeling that he had done this all before as he looked Iseldir square in the eye and replied:

"Yes."

Iseldir leaned in close.

"Repeat after me," he said, and Arthur's heart skipped a beat.

This was it. This was everything he had always feared. This was real. This was happening.

"Āblissian Infær-" Iseldir's mouth moved around impossible sounds.

"Ablissian Infaer…" The words came from his mouth before he was even aware he was speaking.

"-Hē sceole wiþ þǣm," The Druid managed to show some kind of encouragement in his eyes as he continued.

"-He sceole with thaem," The king's tongue felt thick against the roof of his mouth. He couldn't bend it the way Iseldir could, though he tried.

"-līchaman hine gedǣlan." Iseldir rocked back onto his heels.

"-lichaman hine gedaelan."

Arthur waited for Iseldir to continue, but Iseldir was still, watching Merlin carefully through his pale eyes.

"Is-" Arthur shifted Merlin's weight gently. "-Is that it?"

Iseldir remained silent. Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead looked down into Merlin's dirty hair. Nothing seemed different.

"I don't think it worked. Should I say the words again?"

Iseldir continued to stare at Merlin. It was like he hadn't heard Arthur at all. Exasperated, Arthur turned to plead Gaius for directions.

"...Gaius?" He managed, but the old man made no response. He, too, had his gaze fixed on Merlin, totally still.

It was at that moment that Arthur realized it was more than just stillness- it was an unnatural lack of motion. As he turned his head, it became more and more obvious to Arthur that everybody- the Druids, Gwaine, Percival, Gwen, even the rain outside-was completely and utterly silent and still.

_Frozen_.

The word came to his mind unbidden, and everything he had ever known came crashing down with it.

The spell had worked.

_The spell had worked._

Of course Arthur didn't know what he was expected to do now- was everybody freezing supposed to happen? Had time stopped? Were there instructions he was supposed to find? Should he get up and walk around, or just remain in the bed? Was Merlin frozen, too?

Arthur shifted the warlock's dead weight and looked down at his chest to see if it was moving-

And gasped.

His lap was empty.

Where moments ago Merlin had sat, there was now empty air.

Whirling around, Arthur's eyes raked the blanket he was seated on, as if somehow he expected Merlin to have hidden himself under the covers. Finding no one, he pushed himself off of the bed and searched the ground around it, being careful to avoid stepping on the statue-like druids.

Nothing. With dread pooling in his stomach, Arthur knew that Merlin was no longer in the room with him.

His first thought was that he had already failed. His only job was to help get Merlin's magic out of the collar unscathed, and he had already gone and lost Merlin.

His second thought, which came to him before his first thought had even finished, was that he needed to find Merlin. Immediately.

Since he was already up and standing without any immediate consequence, Arthur decided it was probably safe to inspect his surroundings.

What was this place?

Was he in a dream? Was he in the real, physical world? He didn't think it was the latter, because in the real world people didn't just up and disappear.

Which meant he was somewhere else. Was he inside the collar? Was this what the insides of magical collars looked like? If so, it was ridiculous.

Sighing, Arthur wondered whether anything he was seeing was real, or if it was all made out of that melty dream-substance that he imagined his thoughts were made of.

He approached a young Druid first. Kneeling with his hands folded in his lap, he could have been meditating had it not been for his wide, glassy eyes staring blankly forward.

Curious, Arthur waved his hand in front of the man's face. When he received no response, he cautiously nudged him in the shoulder. The man's clothing moved naturally, although the man himself made no indication that he had felt anything. Unnerved, Arthur stood up and walked to the window. When he pulled back the dark fabric that covered it, his fingers came away damp, but outside the rain was no longer falling. Instead, thousands of glistening droplets hung in the gray air.

Despite the situation, Arthur took a moment to appreciate the scene. It was as if the sky was adorned in strings of crystalline pearls. Even the moments of impact between the raindrops and the ground were frozen, with bits of water mid-shatter near the earth and trees and-

"...Arthur?"

A voice snapped the king out of the moment. Spinning on his heel, his hand went to his sword before he realized that he didn't have one.

Heart racing, he scanned the room. Everything was just as they were before.

"Hello?" Arthur called, taking a slow step back into the center of the room.

Nobody answered.

Arthur took a few more steps, his stance ready for an attack. But the room was small and no matter how hard he looked, he could see no movement aside from himself and his shadow.

"Arthur," the voice came again, tinny and this time devoid of emotion. Arthur shivered. It was coming from behind the closed door. He thought maybe he knew the voice, but it was hard to tell.

Steeling himself, Arthur walked up to the door, pulled it open, took a step, and let out a shout.

As Arthur's foot met empty air, he didn't even have time to pull back before the threshold he was standing on melted away and he was falling into a pit of absolute darkness.


	24. Chapter 24

**Happy New Year, everyone!**

**Enjoy!**

**~Ra1n**

* * *

**Previously...**

"Arthur," the voice came again, tinny and this time devoid of emotion. Arthur shivered. It was coming from behind the closed door. He thought maybe he knew the voice, but it was hard to tell.

Steeling himself, Arthur walked up to the door, pulled it open, took a step, and let out a shout.

As Arthur's foot met empty air, he didn't even have time to pull back before the threshold he was standing on melted away and he was falling into a pit of absolute darkness.

* * *

Arthur shivered.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

The surface below him was hard and cold, like polished obsidian. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it against the palms of his hands and through the fabric of his trousers. The air around him was cool and dry and dark.

Everything was dark.

Even squinting, Arthur couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He could have been in a space the size of a castle or the size of a broom closet. He could have been nowhere at all.

He thought the last one seemed to be the most likely.

He stood carefully, unsure of his own footing or even where the floor actually was, and looked up. Above him the darkness stretched endlessly, no indication as to where he had fallen from.

If he admitted it to himself, he wasn't even sure if he had _fallen, _or at least not in a conventional sense. It had certainly _felt _like he was falling, but then he was suddenly sitting, quite calmly, in the dark, and that didn't really tend to be how landing worked. He would have thought about it harder if it weren't for the fact that the things leading up to the fall were infinitely stranger.

He didn't want to give that much thought, either.

Arthur cast another glance into the sky. Nope, still no explanation. Dropping his head again, he slid his foot forward a few inches and felt to make sure there was ground in front of him. It was solid beneath his foot, and perfectly smooth and flat, and although this should have been reassuring, Arthur just found that it confused him more. With his hands out in front of him, he took another step, only to have the exact same result. There didn't seem to be any resistance or break in the monotony of the dark and the floor. With no change after an additional three steps, Arthur could only pray he was going in the right direction.

And thus began the longest, and perhaps the most hellish, walk he had ever been on.

Periodically, he would blink to see if maybe his eyes were closed, because he had never witnessed darkness this complete. But every time he opened his eyes again, he was still blind.

He kept walking.

Hours passed. Arthur wasn't sure if time was moving, but if it was then it was absolutely crawling by. There was nothing to mark how far he had gone or for how long, and the only sound was his boots scratching against the ground.

Eventually it got to a point where Arthur was absolutely _sure _he was going to go mad. He couldn't even remember if his eyes were open or closed. He'd taken to whistling to keep himself focused on _something. _His legs felt numb and his mouth felt dry and he was cold-

And then he stopped, his legs buzzing with the sudden change in pattern, and focused on the temperature.

Had it been _this _cold before?

He thought, surely, that it hadn't. After wandering for hours Arthur was sure the air was colder and refused to believe otherwise. Even just a few moments ago, it had been warmer than it was now. And even now the temperature was still dropping.

He stopped whistling and let out a breath of relief-at least something in this desolate no-man's land had changed- before he felt his eyes widen in shock-_-_ his breath! It billowed from his mouth in an opaque white cloud. It was faint, but it was certainly visible. He breathed again. Now that he was paying attention to it, it was difficult to miss. It was impossibly bright against the darkness, and try as he might Arthur couldn't seem to find the sudden source of its illumination- the light seemed to be coming from somewhere inside of him, somewhere behind his teeth or in his throat. He breathed out again, deeply, and the white mist floated up and out of him, shimmering and hovering in the air before dissipating.

The air around him was crackling with cold now, his fingertips tingling with it. His toes curled in their boots. Every breath he took was an icy stab to his lungs, but he kept watching his breath hover in front of him. He was tired, and frustrated, and confused- but at least now there was something to focus on. He didn't know if it was going to help him find Merlin in any way, but he decided that any change was better than none at all.

He was starting to shiver. He needed to think clearly, but it was difficult to focus. His clothes were very thin.

"So," he said aloud, listening to his own voice echo around him, "do I go towards the cold or away from it?"

Of course, there was no answer. Arthur knew he sounded like a lunatic, but it wasn't as if there were other people to hear him. He sighed.

"I wish I had my sword," he muttered, absently touching his hip where his scabbard usually lay.

"And how would that help you?" Came a voice from somewhere above and behind him. Arthur took a sharp breath and spun around, but it was too dark to see anything.

"Show yourself!" Arthur exclaimed, before realizing he wouldn't have been able to see the person anyway.

"Typical Arthur," the voice said instead, and Arthur realized it was the same disembodied voice that had lead him to fall in the first place.

"What do you want?" The king snapped.

"Always so demanding. Do you think a sword will protect you?"

Arthur tipped his head back as the voice moved directly above him, "Who are you?" he shouted.

"Just give up now. You have no power here."

Frustration wormed its way into Arthur's gut.

"Answer me!"

The voice got further away. "This is your fault, you know," it said.

Something akin to rage, hot and sharp, filled Arthur's chest. "Tell me who you are!"

"Just give up now, little king."

"_NO!" _The word burst from his chest and Arthur roared it into the sky. His breath billowed from his throat in a great glowing stream, and Arthur jumped, horrified to see that it was gold.

Instead of dissipating immediately, it threaded its way far above his head before disappearing.

"I was wrong," The voice said after a beat of silence, and Arthur felt his mouth go dry as his heart jumped into his throat. The temperature of the room plummeted to the coldest Arthur had ever felt, like the very heart of winter had plucked him up and devoured him whole. His muscles seized at the change, and he found himself trembling as shivers pushed themselves down his spine.

"You," it continued, the anger palpable in the very air, "Are _not _Arthur. And you are _not_ welcome here."

There was a great whirring, and Arthur felt the air being squeezed from his lungs as his body shook and his meager vision of his own breath blinked out. Dark. Dark. It was dark again and the pressure was impossible, there was no way his ribcage could take it, no way for his bones to not shatter under his skin-

And then suddenly it was warm again, and Arthur found himself kneeling. With a start he knew that the voice was gone, at least for the moment. His teeth were chattering. His eyes were squeezed shut. Slowly, Arthur's heart stopped pounding, and he managed to pry his eyelids apart.

His mouth dropped open. He hadn't moved; he was still in the lightless space, but now he had something else in there with him: a large door stood just a few inches from his nose.

His hands shaking, Arthur reached up and touched it. It was cool and solid, and like his breath, was illuminated by something within. The wood was a warm, rosy red with brassy hinges. Running his hands along the golden detailing that worked its way along the sides and center and culminated in a fine, heavy knocker, Arthur thought it was one of the most finely crafted doors he had ever seen. Without even thinking, he found himself wrapping his fingers around the handle, squeezing the metal, turning it until the latch caught...

The door swung open with an audible _creak, _and Arthur had only just managed to get his wits about him when the door opened fully and revealed what was inside.

A dungeon cell. Beyond the unlocked, ornate wooden door there was a stone cell almost identical to the ones in Camelot. The walls of damp gray stone glistened with torchlight, although Arthur couldn't locate any torches. Rotting strands of hay were scattered across the floor. It was almost a mockery to have such a beautiful entrance to such a horrid interior. What prisoner wouldn't be insulted being given a beautiful, unlocked door? It implied such a helplessness, as if even given the opportunity to escape, they would be unable to.

But what prisoner would be so feeble?

Arthur cast his eyes about the room. There were hundreds of rings set into the walls, each one sporting layers of manacles and chains. As his eyes neared the furthest wall, the amount of chains increased as the light decreased, and Arthur found himself squinting at a tangled ball of them.

His heart dropped.

From amidst the darkness and chains, a pair of dull, confused eyes peered sightlessly at Arthur's torso. Arthur could just make out the whites that glinted from beneath the deeply sunken eye sockets. As his eyes adjusted he began to see more: a mop of matted, oily hair. A thin, pallid hand, curled lifelessly, held in midair by a snarl of chains coming from every direction. There was a sliver of hollow, grimy cheek, and when the light caught just right, Arthur saw a blue iris roll just above the cheekbone.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat, and he choked on nothing, panic swelling his chest for just a moment-

"Wh-Who-?" Arthur managed, but trailed off. Taking another step closer erased any doubts he might have had; there was no mistaking the figure for anyone else. "...Merlin?"

Merlin's chin lifted just enough to allow his eyes to look at Arthur head-on, then dropped again. He blinked slowly and dragged his eyes up once again to look at Arthur through his lashes. He didn't lift his chin.

"Arthur…?" He rasped. His voice was brittle and reedy. He blinked again, then squeezed his eyes shut, swaying, unable to finish his sentence. .

"H-How did you…?" Arthur once again found himself at a loss for words as his eyes raked over Merlin's body. Someone had wound thick chains around what looked like every inch of him- there were chains wrapped around his torso, digging into his ribcage through his threadbare shirt, locked tightly to manacles enclosing every joint of every limb- God, there was barely enough space for Arthur to get a finger in. Even his neck was occupied by a grotesque necklace of chains.

Immediately, Arthur wanted to run to him. He wanted to seize the chains and break them in his fists, send the prison walls crumbling around them, grab Merlin and carry him away. But then he lifted an arm to do so, just slightly, just enough for him to realize that his instincts were very much present-

And Merlin flinched, violently, his eyes snapping open. The chains protested and clanked, jerking against their rings, digging more deeply into Merlin's skin as he fought to pull away. The movement must have only lasted a moment before Arthur pulled his arm back and stepped away, but it felt like an eternity before Merlin calmed again, his body trembling from exertion or fear or both.

Arthur had somehow forgotten that although it had been days since he had pulled Merlin from the dungeons and forgiven him, Merlin had had no time to pass judgement at all. Arthur was still the monster that hurt and abandoned.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to keep his voice soft, trying to keep Merlin from flinching and hurting himself even more.

Merlin didn't seem to hear him. One of his long white fingers twitched, his brow furrowed, one of his boots scraped against the stone floor, and Arthur realized that he wasn't even holding himself up. The chains kept him standing upright.

"...you shouldn't be here," Merlin murmured, his eyes threatening to close again. Arthur could tell he was forcing himself to stay alert, to keep his eyes open and on Arthur. He was barely succeeding. Fear was keeping them open for the time being, it seemed, but unconsciousness was slowly gaining ground.

Arthur opened his mouth but was unable to find anything to say. He didn't understand this world, this situation, this frail, bony Merlin.

He jumped when he thought he saw the dark circles beneath Merlin's eyes grow longer.

"You… should go," Merlin sighed, his eyelids fluttering shut.

"What?" Arthur took a step into the room, placing his foot down as softly as he could.

"I said, you should go. Please." Merlin's voice was barely audible, and it was pleading. He shifted one of his legs and the chains clinked. There was a cuff around his ankle, around his calf, around his thigh. He seemed to be trying to move backwards, but was inhibited. His eyes opened and then only half-focused, landing somewhere above Arthur's head. He lifted his head up. "_Now."_

"But-" The king took another step, and Merlin's irises lazily moved down, as if trying to track the movement in slow motion. There was a chorus of heavy ringing as one of his legs twitched again, then an arm.

"Please, Arthur," he slurred. His tongue came out to lick his chapped lips, and it looked thick and heavy.

"I just want to help," Arthur said. He was squatting now, trying to appear smaller, like Merlin was a skittish colt and Arthur was trying to calm it down. Not that Merlin could bolt or even move away from him at any capacity other than a twitch.

The feeble prisoner behind the mockery of an elegant door.

"I don't…" Merlin's chin suddenly dropped, hitting hard against the metal at his throat. The skin split to reveal raw, pink flesh, but there was no blood. His mouth gaped open and he took a shallow breath, the chains preventing him from taking a full one. The material of his shirt wrinkled around his protruding ribcage, and with a start, Arthur realized the servant was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the day he had been ordered to the dungeons. They were torn, and dirty, and looked slightly bigger than they usually did, but it was not an outfit Arthur would soon forget.

In fact, he even had bits of breakfast caked to his boots.

In short, Merlin looked like he had the moment Arthur had put the collar around his neck, minus the collar. Arthur's stomach churned. He was sure those clothes had been destroyed-probably burned- once they'd been confiscated.

"...I don't think you can," Merlin managed. His lips were blue. The gash in his chin had yet to bleed. "Just leave me be."

"Merlin, I can't just lea-" Arthur didn't finish his sentence. As he uttered the very beginning of his protest, he found himself lurched backwards, landing on his back a few feet from his original position. He gasped at the pain in his spine.

Staring at the grey stone ceiling, Arthur had only one thought: What had just happened?

He winced and rolled over, sitting up to face Merlin again.

The young warlock was slouched further, gasping quickly. His eyes were trained at the ground. He was trembling. Arthur noticed that the chains had taken on a distinctly bluish hue, but it faded quickly enough.

"You- need- to- go," Merlin said between each frantic breath. His tone was commanding. "Please- just- listen- to- me- now," the thin material of his shirt wrinkled around his protruding ribcage and creased and un-creased with each of Merlin's words. "You- can't- be- here-"

"Merlin," Arthur said. He kept his voice level, but Merlin just shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You don't _understand,"_ he moaned, his fingers curling into weak fists, "You _can't._ You _can't_ help me. You can _never_ help me. I can't be helped. You need _to go, before things get worse."_

"What could possibly get worse?" Arthur asked, the words coming out before he could even think about the possible repercussions.

Merlin let out a broken sob. "Please trust me," he said, "you don't want it to get worse."

"Don't want _what _to get worse?"

Merlin looked Arthur dead in the eye.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he whispered just as his breath seemed to lodge in his throat. His eyes widened as he began to choke, and he looked desperately at his own chest. A chain had tightened around- no, a chain had _appeared _around Merlin's chest, tighter than the ones before it. Merlin's mouth gaped open as he fought to fill his lungs with air.

"Go," he mouthed, his breaths stuttering. Arthur watched in horror as Merlin coughed and shook, tilting his head back to expose the white column of his throat, working to breathe. Arthur got his wits about him and surged forward, his fingers finding the chains and pulling-anything to relieve some of the pressure on Merlin's chest-but the bonds were locked tight and unyielding, and beneath his fingers Arthur felt Merlin's movements slow and then stop altogether, his head falling back limply.

His chest ceased to move.

Arthur stood there in shock, his hands still wrapped around the chains. He couldn't move. Couldn't make a sound. Couldn't comprehend what had just happened-

Merlin's chest was still. His eyes were wide and unseeing.

Dead.

He was dead.

Arthur could do nothing.

Tears in his eyes, he loosened his hold on the chains. He reached a hand up to touch Merlin's chest, then his cheek, then to close his eyes out of respect-

And then, as if on puppet strings, the warlock's head twitched to the side, just a little. Then again. Slowly, his neck straightened and twisted. Arthur pulled his hand back, his task undone. Merlin's head tilted forward until his face was level with Arthur's, his jaw slack and hanging. Arthur looked with terror into Merlin's cloudy blue eyes.

"Ar...gur…" Came a wet gurgling somewhere deep in Merlin's throat. His chest didn't move. His jaw didn't shift. His eyes didn't blink.

"...Merlin?" Arthur squeaked.

The gurgling stopped. Merlin's face remained suspended. Silence fell in the room.

And then there was _screaming_.


End file.
